


Prompt Fills - Volume 2

by mangocianamarch



Series: PROMPT FILLS [2]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (2012) RPF, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:57:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Volume 2 of my Prompt Fills. Fluff, smut, Dwarves, slave!au Dwarves, Dwarves watching movies, norse god reincarnations, vampires, norse god reincarnations and/or vampires with kitty ears, actors in Middle Earth, stuff and things. Walk right in, don't forget to leave your shoes outside and wipe your feet on the welcome mat.</p><p>THIS VOLUME IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED. Thanks to everybody who sent me prompts! Volume 3 coming soon.</p><p>Prompts are now open! If you've got ideas, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/774986/chapters/1607143">see the last chapter of this fic for details</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DURINCEST/TRIPLE DURINCEST (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: HobbitAU! where Fili and Kili are slaves and are bought to serve Thorin, their new lord and master. The two have a history of nasty, abusive, neglectful masters and are very weary of the new one. Eventually they see that Thorin isn't so bad and they have a deep love and devotion for him that they want to offer themselves freely. Thorin's a bit reluctant seeing as they both went through bad times, but they persist and he eventually concedes to their desires. He tops them both!"

**PART 1**

Fili glares out the window of the cart, watching the world fly past. Beside him, his brother Kili has fallen asleep, his head resting on Fili's shoulder. The journey has been long and rough so far, although talk from the driver and his companion say that they are drawing near to their destination. Fili supposes he should be grateful that they have avoided yet again being sent to the mines, but thought of being sold to their third dominus in 5 years holds very little comfort for him. All their lives, all they have known is servitude, most times coupled with violence and abuse. Many times, he has sworn to Kili that they will one day live free, as they must have when they were but younglings. Losing both mother and father all at once when Kili could barely walk left them with nothing but the clothes on their back. They had survived only by serving kin as their domini; Fili can hardly call it living.

“Hush,” Kili breathes beside him.

“I said nothing,” Fili replies, confused.

“You think too hard and too loud,” Kili answers, eyes still closed, “as you always do. You break no words, and yet I hear your thoughts.”

“Apologies,” Fili says with a soft, small grin, “Rest again. I shall endeavor to trouble you no more.”

“You trouble me not at all, brother,” Kili offers, finding Fili's bound hands with his own. Fili touches his lips to Kili's forehead. Always a great comfort to him.

They spend the rest of the journey in comfortable silence, and perhaps theirs are the only peaceful faces to be found in the cart. Kili's indomitable calm begins to affect Fili, and he becomes drowsy as well. But too soon, the cart halts, and there are voices in aggressive discussion outside.

“One final time, my love,” Fili whispers to Kili, “One last ludus.”

Kili only nods. The words feel old in Kili's ears and used in Fili's mouth.

 

–- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

“Come, sit with me.”

Fili is startled out of his thoughts. When he casts eyes upon Thorin, he finds him smiling gently, offering him a seat at his table, a thing unheard of yet in Fili's life as a slave.

“I do not wish to spoil dinner, dominus,” Fili replies evenly, politely.

“Nonsense,” Thorin remarks with a soft laugh, “You are washed, yes?” Fili nods in confirmation. “Then you shall spoil nothing. Sit with me.”

Still confused, Fili moves awkwardly towards the table, sitting to Thorin's left. Automatically, he moves to pour wine into his glass, but Thorin stops him, drawing the jar away.

“I shall do that,” he tells Fili, “Have you eaten?”

“Yes, dominus,” Fili answers respectfully. Three weeks have passed since he and Kili arrived at Thorin's ludus, yet still he is perplexed by his kind treatment of them and their fellow slaves.

“I'll have none of this 'dominus' business,” Thorin says, “Not tonight, at least. I wish to have words as friends, as I do all who work for me. You shall address me by name, as I shall you.”

“Yes, do—Thorin,” enunciates Fili carefully, and it feels strange around his mouth, but not unpleasant, “Apologies. I have not known such treatment from previous masters.”

“Very few have,” Thorin agrees, picking out some grapes from a bowl, “A tragedy I wish to remedy, if at least in my home alone. You are called Fili, yes? And your brother?”

“Kili,” Fili replies.

“So young to be so weighted with servitude,” Thorin sighs.

“It is all the life we have ever known,” Fili tells him, “We lost home and parents to a terrible fire when Kili was but a toddler. Any kin that took us in put me, and soon him, to service. Long have I desired to free us, to take him and run, but thought of dangers not yet faced has stayed my actions thus far.”

Thorin shakes his head as if in sympathy. “I would desire freedom myself if I had known naught but hardship,” he agrees, “I discourage you, however, from attempting escape. I aim to provide comfort and genuine friendship, and in return I ask only for loyalty. Can you give me that?”

Thorin's hand has found its way onto Fili's wrist, and Fili stares at it curiously for a few moments. His touch is as gentle as his words, as deep as his voice.

“You will never have to demand it of me,” Fili promises, “Although it may ease mind to know that I have not entertained such thoughts since coming here.”

Thorin smiles at him warmly, and Fili finds himself returning it easily. Thorin draws his hand back, and offers Fili the bowl of grapes. At first, Fili freezes, surprised by Thorin's generosity, but then Thorin chuckles, assures him it would be all right, and Fili believes him.

“Tell me about your brother,” Thorin replies, refilling his glass, “he seems to hold you in higher regard than usual between siblings.”

Fili feels his spirits lift. “I am protector, provider, partner, friend...” he tells Thorin quietly.

“Lover?” Thorin finishes, and when Fili turns his gaze away, he waves off his embarrassment, “Many will look down up on it, as he is your blood, but I judge not. Who are we to dictate affections, or predict directions of our hearts? It is not strange concept in this house for men to lie with other men, and believe me, you would not be the first pair of brothers to do so either.”

“And you?” Fili asks, perhaps rather boldly, “Where does your heart find completion?”

Thorin gives him a wide smile, possibly satisfied that Fili has begun to open up more. “Not in the arms of women,” he answers nonchalantly, “Although as a child, I thought I would take wife.”

“What changed you?”

Thorin toys with a single grape between his fingers, and it seems he slips out of the present to reminisce briefly. “The right man,” he replies, but then a sadness fills his smile, “He is long gone. My father was not quite as understanding, you see.”

“Condolences,” Fili offers, and Thorin's face brightens again, “How did you restrain yourself from taking vengeance?”

“I did not,” Thorin answers.

Fili would later swear to Kili that he had caught a wink.

 

–- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Fili claps a hand on Kili's shoulder, making him jump. Kili swears, aiming a punch at his older brother, but Fili, laughing, is ready for him. He moves quickly, grabbing Kili's arm and twisting it enough to maneuver him back-first against the wall.

“Remove fucking hand or it comes off,” Kili threatens.

“Would that not be a pity though?” Fili counters, cocking an eyebrow at him as his hand aims lower, “You were staring again.”

“Was not,” Kili protests, but his voice is meek, his resolve even weaker; Fili's lips are on his throat, his hand moving steadily between his legs, “Fi, don't, someone will see.”

“No one will care,” Fili breathes in his ear, “I certainly do not.”

“And yet there is no mistaking the bitterness in the tone of your accusation,” Kili mocks, earning himself a sharp tug, “Fuck.”

“An accusation based from truth,” he whispers, “Your body yet betrays your words, brother.”

A moan escapes Kili when Fili pushes a knee between both of his. Fili's words are as merciless as his ministrations.

“Perhaps new position as his body-slave has tainted you with arrogance,” Fili teases, his other hand in Kili's hair as his kisses become more insistent.

“Thorin grants it to me out of respect,” Kili argues, rutting almost involuntarily against Fili, “He gives me privilege to compensate for past transgressions by former domini.”

Fili pulls away to look Kili in the eye. His expression softens at the look on Kili's face. “Do you believe this?” he asks, “Do you truly believe he wants nothing more?”

“He has bought both our loyalties,” Kili points out, “purely through sympathy, kindness and generosity. Besides, what more could he want from us? We have nothing to give him.”

“Have you not seen how he casts eyes on you?” Fili asks him, “When he thinks no one can see, his eyes follow you until you disappear from sight. He showers you with more affection and attention than perhaps he ever did kin. If it were up to him, you would never be from his side. I swear to the gods, he is but a song away from confessing love, perhaps.”

Something strongly resembling a whimper comes from Kili's lips. “And you know all this?” he says, his hand urging Fili to continue what his was doing on his cock.

“I see it, my love,” Fili replies, “And I promised loyalty to him, but if he attempts to wrest you from me...”

Kili takes Fili’s face in his hands, locking gazes with him.

“Look at me,” Kili urges, and Fili does, “No one, nor nothing, shall come between us. I am yours. I shall never forget that, and neither should you.”

“Ki...” Fili sighs as his brother’s hand now moves lower. When it closes around Fili’s half-awake cock, Fili hisses, trembling slightly with need.

“Strike dominus and his affections from mind,” Kili tells him with a gentle smile, “I would have them of no concern to the one that holds my heart.”

It is all the reassurance Fili needs. The gap between them disappears when Fili crushes his lips to Kili’s, kissing him fervently, urgently, desperately. He pulls him close with his arms, but pushes him flush against the wall with the rest of his body. Kili’s hand moves on him, rough, shameless and possessive, and Fili growls into Kili’s mouth when he tightens his grip.

“Faster,” Fili groans into Kili’s ear as his mouth moves off Kili’s lips to attach itself to his neck. Kili obliges him, and in return, Fili bites into Kili’s skin, sucking hard enough to mark him. Kili’s other hand claws at Fili’s arm and shoulder needily, and he manages to grind out his brother’s name as Fili’s hips move with his fist.

“Is this how you keep watch then?”

They fly apart, Kili blushing hard. Thorin is leaning against a column, smirking inquisitively at them both.

“Apologies,” Kili stammers, “W-we were...”

“We were just...” FIli joins in, but they catch each other’s eye, and fall instead to laughter, embarrassed at being caught by none higher than the dominus himself.

“Take to your bed,” Thorin chuckles, “The house is secure. I will not need your service tonight.”

Kili looks to his brother, who cocks his head in the general direction of their chambers. Still furiously flushed, Kili rushes off.

Thorin turns raised eyebrows at Fili, who shrugs.

“Gratitude,” Fili mutters, moving to join Kili, but Thorin takes him by the arm, stopping him.

“I sense more on your mind,” Thorin tells him in a low tone.

“None that should be of any more trouble,” Fili answers, wrenching his arm from Thorin’s grasp.

“I gave permission long ago to speak freely,” Thorin reminds him, “Even against me.”

Fili breathes deeply. “I hold nothing against you, dominus,” he says quietly.

Thorin takes his chin in hand, and raises his face to better look him in the eye. “Your honesty has long endeared you to me, Fili,” Thorin tells him softly, “I would hear it now.”

Fili sighs deeply. This close to Thorin, his scent in the air, his touch on his skin, his eyes upon his, he has barely any strength to defend himself. His cock stirs in his britches at the look of gentle intent on Thorin’s face, and Fili knows he is lost.

“I...” he begins, “I cannot...I don’t...”

“You envy Kili his new position,” Thorin guesses, “You believe it should have been you I appointed as body-slave, as you are older.”

Fili stutters incoherently. “It is more than that, dominus,” he says truthfully, “So much more than that.”

Thorin’s hand drops, and he too sighs heavily. “You think I attempt to steal him from you,” he states.

“I fear you would barely need to try,” Fili replies honestly, “He would go to you without second thought if you but commanded him to. His affection for you runs deep, perhaps deeper than even he knows.”

Thorin’s expression softens even more. “Oh Fili,” he breathes, a hand in his hair as he draws him close, touching his forehead to Fili’s almost sweetly, “My sweet, loyal, gentle Fili.”

The proximity is dizzying. Fili closes his eyes tight, trying to shut out the din of his thoughts racing nearly as fast as his pulse.

“I promise you,” Thorin whispers, “I shall not come between you. I know all too well the consequences, and while I yet draw breath, you shall not suffer same fate. You have my word.” He places a kiss on Fili’s forehead, and FIli thinks he feels fire spread from where Thorin’s lips touched his skin. “Do you trust me?”

Fili swallows, eventually finding his voice again, but no thoughts come to him. He nods instead, hoping that would be enough.

 

–- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Kili all but crumples back onto the mattress, sated, boneless and utterly spent. Laughing through his exhaustion, he caresses Fili’s head where it rests on his shoulder, their skins slick and gleaming with sweat.

“That was...” Kili chuckles breathlessly, “You were... _Fuck_ , Fili.”

“Hush,” Fili pants, kissing at Kili’s chest and throat, “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this. Beautiful, and mine. All _mine_.”

He kisses Kili hard and deep, causing Kili to groan and buck against him. He moves lower again, a finger teasing at Kili’s entrance again already, and Kili whimpers.

“Fili, wait...” Kili breathes, “Fili – gods, Fi, I’m not...Ooooh, _fuck_.”

Fili’s mouth is around his manhood, coaxing it to hardness again, while his middle finger has slipped inside Kili. Kili’s stomach heaves, his breathing still irregular, but then he’s urging Fili off desperately.

“Brother, please,” he pleads, “Have care, or you shall wear me out.”

“Not possible,” Fili responds, moving to descend upon Kili once more, but Kili stops him.

“I mean it,” he says, fixing his brother with a firm gaze, “I’m tired, Fi.”

Clucking his tongue, Fili relents, removing himself to lay beside Kili instead.

“Animal,” Kili chuckles.

“Uncultured swine,” Fili replies.

“It was a compliment,” Kili laughs, smacking him in the stomach, “Although rooted in truth, and not without a little suspicion.”

“Suspicion?” Fili echoes, and now Kili straddles him, but only to pin him down more than for anything else.

“Something troubles you,” Kili states, “Before you say no, be reminded that I am the last person you can lie to. I know you too well.”

“Then perhaps it is best I break no words at all,” Fili says, trying to urge Kili off of him, “I would not have you bear my burden.”

“Are your thoughts so heavy as to warrant such a word?” Kili asks, concern filling his young face.

“Yes,” Fili answers simply, “You would receive gratitude for not pressing issue.”

He takes Kili's waist and tosses him off, standing for some water.

“...Thorin.”

Fili stops cold. Kili had spoken the name so softly, Fili could have been mistaken. Unfortunately, he is not.

“It's him, isn't it?” Kili continues, “He weighs heavily on your mind.”

Fili takes a few moments to choose his words. The only sound in the room is the water moving from the jar into the cup in Fili's hand.

“I told you,” he says quietly, “It is my burden to bear, not yours.”

A few more moments of heavy silence, and then --

“Have you not considered possibility, brother, that perhaps I carry similar weight?”

Fili can only stare at Kili as if seeing him for the first time.

“What meaning do your words have?” he asks slowly.

Kili shrugs, sitting up and drawing his knees forward. “What meaning do you think they have?” he inquires.

Fili sits on the edge of the bed, staring down into the cup in his hand. “I think they confirm fears,” he answers, “As I have told you of his obvious affection for you, so have I observed your own for him. I told him so, a few days ago, and he swore he would make no attempt to take you from me. “

“...There is more,” Kili notes.

“None I think you should hear,” Fili says, “Sleep now.”

“I shall not,” Kili replies firmly, “I would hear what truly darkens your mood.” He kisses Fili's shoulder, and Fili sighs, knowing there is very little he would deny his brother when asked.

“All our lives,” he starts, “I have loved none but you. No woman nor man has ever seemed more worthy.”

“Except him,” Kili adds for him, his tone one of understanding.

“I never meant for it to happen,” Fili justifies quickly.

“We never do,” Kili replies soothingly, putting his arms around his brother, holding him close, back to chest, “What were you so worried about?”

Fili turns his head, finding Kili looking at him with a tiny grin. “You are not angry with me?”

“I know where your heart truly lies,” Kili tells him, “In this life and in the next, you and I will always find our way to each other. The gods should find reason to quiver in fear if they so much as consider keeping us apart.”

“That does not solve problem,” Fili points out, although he too is smiling now.

“No,” Kili replies, tone quiet and sly, “It does not, does it?”

 

 

_**~ TO BE CONTINUED. ~** _


	2. DURINCEST/TRIPLE DURINCEST (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Chapter 1 prompt fill
> 
> PROMPT: HobbitAU! where Fili and Kili are slaves and are bought to serve Thorin, their new lord and master. The two have a history of nasty, abusive, neglectful masters and are very weary of the new one. Eventually they see that Thorin isn't so bad and they have a deep love and devotion for him that they want to offer themselves freely. Thorin's a bit reluctant seeing as they both went through bad times, but they persist and he eventually concedes to their desires. He tops them both!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't use betas, so any mistakes or mix-ups are totally my fault, and yes, you're allowed to point them out to me so I can fix them. :D

**PART 2**

Kili chuckles warmly, swaying under Thorin’s arm. Laughing himself, Thorin pulls him close, either to keep Kili on his feet or to steady himself. Fili follows quietly behind them, Thorin’s used clothes in his arms, a yet unfinished jar of wine dangling from his fingers. They round a corner into Thorin’s bedchamber, where Fili sets aside first the jar, then the robes. Kili half-carries Thorin to his bed.

“To bed then,” Fili calls to Kili, “Unless we are still needed here, dominus?”

“Only if you wish to stay a while longer,” Thorin tells him.

“Yet again, we prove better company than his guests, Ki,” Fili points out.

“Of course he does,” Kili replies, “You’ve plied him with drink, have you not?”

“I honestly prefer your companionship over others,” chuckles Thorin.

“Hark, brother!” Kili says, “I believe I hear drunken attempt to flatter.”

“I but speak my mind!” Thorin protests, laughing.

“A mind yet swimming in drink,” Fili observes. Kili giggles.

“Hardly,” Thorin states, “The best wine was gone in a blink.”

“Shame, that,” Kili replies, shooting a look at Fili, “Perhaps we can find better end to night’s celebration, then.” The edge in his tone nearly makes Fili’s knees buckle.

“What are your thoughts?” Thorin asks.

Kili glances at Fili, who can only blush. They have already broken words on this, but he can hardly imagine their opportunity would arrive so soon. He finds himself hesitating; perhaps this is not one of their better ideas after all.

It seems, however, that Kili is of opposed mind. He walks slowly closer to Thorin.

“Of you,” Kili tells Thorin, “As they constantly are.”

“I hardly think I warrant such reverence,” Thorin answers, but there is uncertainty in his voice.

“Would you not receive it still?” Kili asks, far too close to Thorin now, and Fili feels unsure for whom his jealousy rages, “Especially when freely given?”

Thorin puts up a hand, just barely touching Kili's chest, to stop him. “I know what meaning words carry,” he says, “I cannot give you what you seek.”

“As well you should not,” Kili tells him, sinking slowly to his knees before him, “We are slaves, you are dominus.  _We_  are meant to fall to command, if  _you_  would but give word.”

A darkness flits across Thorin's eyes, but he looks to Fili, who yet stands at a distance. “I made promise once,” he says to both brothers, “that I would not come between you.”

“I feel certain,” Kili replies, eyes on Fili, a sly smile on his face, “that is a promise that does not necessarily have to be broken.”

“I would not want to overstep authority,” Thorin tells him.

“You mistake desire for subservience then,” Kili hums, hand slowly making its way up Thorin's leg, “A desire mirrored in your own eyes, at the very least.”

“I would not command you to share bed,” Thorin sighs, “Not when past domini have been less than kind to you both.”

“You alone are not darkened by shadows of others' actions,” Kili promises, “It is not by command that we yet linger.”

Thorin and Kili seem to search each other's faces for moments on end. Kili smirks, and Thorin's mind is made up.

“...Fili.”

Fili's attention snaps to Thorin, who is looking at him in earnest. “What would you?” he asks.

“I would hear your voice in this,” Thorin answers, holding out a hand.

Hesitantly, Fili walks over to them both. Kili turns large, lust-darkened eyes at him from the floor.

“Words do not come so easily for me as they do for Kili,” he says softly, “My brother speaks mind for us both.”

“Notice I bade for voice, not mind,” Thorin chuckles, urging him closer.

“What would you hear from me?” Fili asks, “Kili has taken all words from my mouth.”

“In more ways than one,” laughs Kili with a wink, “Perhaps speak of how your eyes steal glances as he passes, or how your breath catches when he draws near.”

“Too late now,” Fili snorts, and Thorin chuckles, the sound smoother and richer than wine. His voice weakens when Kili presses a kiss to his knee.

“Tell me instead of the truth in his words,” Thorin sighs, far too close now to Fili, “and find it reflected in me.”

Thorin's lips are on Fili's stomach, cloth separating them, and yet Fili feels the heat. He closes his eyes against it, breathing deeply, willing himself to calm. They had wanted this. _He_  has wanted this. He has wanted  _him._

Well, here he is. Here they all are.

“There are no words in any language,” Fili breathes, “that would ever be truly enough to explain.”

“Then give me mouth still,” Thorin urges, “There are better ways to occupy it.”

Fili needs only be told once. He bends just enough, and then Thorin's lips are on his, hot and demanding. He cannot help the whimper that leaves him then, swallowed by Thorin, only to be returned as a growl when Kili's mouth finds Thorin's cock, already half-awake.

Fili loses himself in the kiss, his hand above Thorin's quickly beating heart. Kili's other hand is making a slow climb up his leg until it closes around his own manhood, and Fili's gasp is lost in Thorin's mouth. When Fili's jaw slackens a little with the gasp, Thorin's tongue sweeps in quickly, briefly, but it is enough to cause Fili to shudder.

“I have long desired this,” Thorin whispers against Fili's lips, “Many days and nights alone have I spent ruining myself to thoughts of you both. I have dreamt of you and your brother submissive under my hands, your voices in my ear, begging me for more as I watch you come apart beneath me.”

“Oh  _gods_ ,” Fili whimpers, Thorin's mouth around skin on his neck, attacking it with desperate fervor.

“Will you do something for me, Fili?” Thorin asks, and Fili's knees weaken at the sound of his name in Thorin's voice.

“We would do anything for you,” he tells him honestly.

Thorin groans, eyes fluttering slightly; Kili had tongued the slit on his erection as if in agreement with his brother. “Show me what you do,” he says to Fili, “I would watch you claim your brother as your own.”

Kili releases Thorin's cock with a slight  _pop_ , letting go of Fili as well. “Fuck,” he breathes, rising to his feet quickly and kissing Fili for all they are both worth. Fili makes quick, short work of Kili’s robes, all but tossing him onto the bed once he has his brother in all his naked glory. Kili’s body is Fili’s favourite temptation; Although quite lean himself, Kili has always been more fit than he, and there’s no inch of Kili’s body he hasn’t worshipped with eyes, hands and mouth. It is Kili’s naked body that usually breaks his resolve, turns him nearly rabid with the need to meld flesh with flesh. The stars would blush if they knew how hotly Fili’s love and desire for his brother truly burns.

As Fili busies himself with Kili, Thorin disrobes, standing by the corner of his own bed and stroking himself lazily as he watches. Fili’s mouth is everywhere at once, Kili’s dark hair splayed wildly across Thorin’s pillows. There is a calm smile on Kili’s face as Fili moves lower, tongue grazing his skin almost lovingly.

“Take him in your mouth,” comes Thorin’s deep voice, “As deep as you can.”

Fili spares no second thought and obeys, nearly smiling to himself at the abrupt moan that is forced from Kili’s throat. He moves quickly, hollowing his cheeks to suck hard on Kili’s cock. Kili whimpers needily behind gritted teeth, hands fisting in the sheets as he squirms for more contact. Releasing him only long enough to take a deep breath, Fili fits his mouth around him again, sinking slower onto it and relaxing his jaw and throat. He keeps Kili there long enough to hear him swear soundly, before withdrawing completely, only to repeat the action.

“Fili, _please_ ,” Kili begs breathlessly, face flushed and eyes dark with lust as he watches Fili’s progress on his erection.

He cannot deny his brother anything, even at his own expense. Taking Kili’s cock tightly in his fist, he begins to move his head again, tonguing at the slit and the vein that runs underneath the shaft. His hand follows his mouth, twisting just enough to make Kili nearly scream. Fili props himself up and plants his knees firmly on the bed, working Kili mercilessly.

“N-not enough,” Kili stammers, “Brother...Fuck, please, Fili, need more.”

Fili chuckles, only slightly surprised to hear Thorin do the same. He withdraws his mouth and hand, and Kili lets out a sigh, whether in relief or in need is hard to say. Eyes never leaving Kili’s, he sucks his middle finger into his mouth languidly, taking his time, knowing the lingering lack of contact frustrates Kili.

“Fi!” Kili whines, hips bucking.

Taking that as his cue, Fili teases at Kili’s entrance with his wet finger. “Ssshhh,” he coos soothingly. He slips his finger inside slowly, until he has it in up to the knuckle. Kili’s jaw falls slack, hips nearly rising off the bed. “Sssshhh,” Fili says again, kissing at Kili’s raised knee as he begins to move his hand. He doesn’t wait long to add a second finger, which enters Kili dry, making him whimper a little. Again, Fili shushes him, his other hand rubbing calming circles on his belly. In almost sharp contrast, he scissors his fingers inside Kili, stretching him, almost to the point of pain. Kili jerks as if to move away, but Fili’s lips are on his skin again, and he calms down. Fili starts to move his hand again, and Kili hisses, lets out sharps breath, and wriggles beneath Fili, begging in a voice barely heard. As if seeing him so pliant isn’t already enough to get Fili’s blood racing, hearing Kili beg him nearly snaps him in two. He curls his fingers inside Kili, finding that exact spot inside him that leaves Kili limp. His mouth falls open in a silent O, his eyes slamming shut as his back arches.

“Gods yes, Fi,” he groans when he finds his voice again, “Oh fuck.”

“Is he always like this?” Thorin chuckles amusedly in Fili’s ear, slightly startling Fili; when did he get this close?

“It gets better,” Fili replies, repeating the motion inside Kili and forcing an undignified mewl from him.

Thorin faces Fili to him and kisses him deep again, and it’s now Fili’s turn to lose all semblance of self. He kisses like no one ever has before, not even Kili, and his hunger for more is almost disconcerting. He pushes his hand harder and deeper even into Kili, and Kili positively hollers, hand flailing until it finds purchase on a pillow.

“Show me,” Thorin tells him, “There is oil in the box there. Fetch it.”

Fili can hardly move any faster. Withdrawing without warning from Kili earns him a desperate growl from his brother, one that Thorin laughs at almost adoringly. The sound is intoxicating enough for Fili to pull Thorin to him to kiss him just once more before falling to command. Eagerness causes his hand to shake slightly, and it takes him a while to find the oil. When he does find it, he turns to find Thorin hovering over Kili, their mouths welded together in a hot kiss, Kili rutting against Thorin’s thigh. A pang of jealousy is quickly fought down by a bolt of arousal shooting through Fili as he watches Kili’s body move. He has never quite seen it from afar, always from below him or above him, and it’s actually rather spectacular. He clears his throat, and when Thorin moves away, there’s only a slight look of apology on his face.

“Your brother,” Thorin groans into Fili’s neck as if trying to placate him, “is absolutely delicious. I cannot help but wonder if you would be the same, or even better perhaps.”

It works. Fili keens, nearly dropping the little clay bottle of oil in his hand.

“I would have him,” Thorin says, “Just this once. Let me share in this now, and I shall never ask for it again.”

Fili thinks he hears his name faintly from Kili. Thorin’s gaze is heated and predatory, and Fili knows there’s very little he can do to stop himself from acquiescing. He nods, unsure he would find words or voice otherwise. He starts to remove stopper from bottle, but Thorin stops him.

“Not yet,” he says quietly, “Wait until I say so.”

Kili looks almost scared. Fili moves to sit by his head, stroking his hair and shushing him. “I’m right here,” he tells him softly, “I will always be here.”

Kili reaches for him, and Fili knows exactly what he’s asking for. He bends low and kisses him. It’s then that Thorin presses the dry head of his manhood at Kili’s entrance, not quite entering him, but applying enough pressure to make Kili squirm. He lets out a punched-out sound when Thorin does start to breach him slowly.

“Shit,” Kili breathes, panting. “C-can’t...”

“Yes, you can,” Thorin assures him, “Just one, little Kili, you can take it.” He risks a little more, and Kili grabs at Fili’s arm, hissing and wincing. “That’s it,” Thorin encourages, a hand on Kili’s hip, “Just a bit more, little one, for me.” Without waiting for reply, Thorin pushes in just a bit more. The sound that leaves Kili is near pitiful. Fili bends to kiss him sweetly on the forehead, reaching down his body to give his cock a few calming strokes as Thorin moves deeper, gritting his teeth and nearly trembling in his effort to keep control. Another couple of inches in, and there’s no longer any sound coming out of Kili’s open mouth.

“One more, love,” Thorin whispers, “You can take one more for me, can’t you?”

Fili is surprised to see Kili nod, and even raise his head and propping it in Fili’s lap to see better. The smile on Thorin’s face is dangerous. He snaps his hips, burying himself to the hilt inside Kili. The lack of lubrication causes Kili some pain, but not enough to stop the night’s celebrations.

“Fuck,” Thorin pants, “you’re beautiful.” He bends low and kisses Kili. “Both of you.” He kisses Fili, biting at his lower lip. “And so fucking tight, _gods_.”

He pulls himself out as gingerly as possible, Kili’s nails digging into his skin. He beckons Fili to him, and he follows without hesitation.

“Give me oil,” Thorin tells him, adding in a whisper, “but save some for yourself. The night will not see ending before I have you as well.”

He knows exactly what to say, when to say them, how to say them. Without further ado, Fili is pouring oil into his palm. He closes his fist tight around Thorin, causing him to groan, eyes locked on Fili’s. As Fili lines his dominus up at his brother's entrance again, he finds himself drowning in the absolute blue of Thorin's eyes, as if the ocean is swallowing him whole with no chance of him ever resurfacing.

But then Thorin manages to tear his gaze away from Fili to land on Kili as he pushes just the head in first. Kili hums low, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. One hand still clings to a pillow beneath his hand, the other is gripped so tight in the sheets Fili is surprised he hasn't ripped them yet.

“Do you desire this, Kili?” Thorin asks him in a low, gruff voice dripping with barely contained greed, “Do you desire me?”

“Yes, dominus,” Kili manages to reply, cheeks turning red.

“Then I would hear you say what you want of me,” Thorin commands.

Fili watches Kili's expression steel as a familiar smirk crosses his face.

“Fuck me, dominus,” Kili breathes.

It is all the encouragement Thorin needs. With one smooth movement, his slick erection is sheathed inside Kili nearly all the way in. Thorin's moan is matched only by the cry Kili lets out at being so filled so quickly. It is all incredibly beautiful and filthy, and Fili's cock is hard nearly to the point of pain. Looking to relieve some of the pressure, he moves aside slightly to give them space, a hand already working slowly on himself.

Thorin begins to move, withdrawing almost all the way, only to slam hard back into Kili. Kili's entire body rocks upward, another guttural groan filling the air. Gathering Kili's legs around him, Thorin repeats the motion, hips snapping, and Kili keens to him, an utterly debauched smile on his face. Thorin finds a steady rhythm, one that elicits the sweetest sighs and most wanton moans from the young, pliant body beneath him.

Fili’s fist is tight around his own cock, twisting and tugging and pulling just enough to keep the arousal from being painful. He cannot look away from Kili’s face, and feels almost guilty, but uncertain as to why. He has never before shared Kili willingly or by choice, and had always thought that the jealousy would drive him to do something irrational. True enough, there is a voice in his head screaming to take Kili away, to push Thorin off and do the job himself because Kili is _his_. Another part of him desperately wants to replace Kili, to show Thorin what true desire and need feel like. Yet as the sounds Kili is making grow stronger, the voice in Fili’s head grows fainter. Although still unsure of whom he should be more envious of, he tells himself that now is not the time to be jealous; Thorin has promised to deal with him as well, and Kili...Well, they already know that at the end of it all, Kili will always belong to Fili, and he to Kili. So he sits back in his chair, stroking himself languidly, watching Thorin’s talented hips drive into his brother’s willing body, while Kili claws and scratches and grabs at Thorin, pleading for mercy and yet begging for more. Their mutual violence is dangerously alluring, to the say the least.

When Thorin adjusts but a little and re-angles his thrusts, Kili makes the most unholy sound, causing Fili to buck aggressively into his own hand, and Thorin to kiss Kili hungrily. He has found Kili’s weakness, and wastes no time in acquainting himself with it. The last coherent word out of Kili’s mouth is “Faster,” which Thorin obliges only too eagerly. Fili finds his hand mimicking the pace set by Thorin, and he groans behind pursed lips, trying hard not to take his eyes off of the show before him.

“Look at him,” Thorin says, lips on Kili’s sweaty skin, “Look at your brother. Look at how he’s watching you. Watching _us._ I want him to see what you do to me, Kili. I want him to see my face as you push me to finish. And you wish for him to see as well, don’t you, my sweet?”

Kili responds by reaching up and biting at Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin growls, smiling just a little. Fili cannot hold out much longer, not if they continue with their display. Thorin’s dominance is fed by Kili’s easy subservience, and Fili needs _both_ to be his already; he does not cope well with desperation.

“Oh fuck, Kili,” Thorin moans when Kili starts moving, matching Thorin’s rhythm. He trades pace for roughness, fucking into Kili hard. Kili grips hard on Thorin’s arms, all but shouting his pleasure to the world now. “I’m close, love, can you feel it?” Thorin pants.

Kili reaches down between them to palm at his erection, but Thorin grabs his wrist and pins it above his head. “Not yet,” he says, “Not fucking yet.”

Kili whimpers in pleading, but Thorin ignores him. Using his other hand, he grabs Kili’s thigh, closing it tight around his waist as he pistons his hips into Kili, seconds away from release now. When it does hit, it is sudden and unexpected even for him. He makes no warning, just pulls quickly out of Kili and letting his seed splash against his skin. The force of it leaves him breathless and trembling. Fili takes the opportunity to reassert his presence. He crosses the distance between them in almost a blink, kissing Thorin hard and desperate. Thorin lets go of Kili to pull Fili close, wanting the scent of his arousal to fill him.

“Gods,” Thorin sighs, his forehead pressed to Fili’s, “You’re both going to be the death of me.”

“Not just yet, I hope,” Kili laughs.

“Your brother is insatiable, Fili,” Thorin observes, “I see now why you are so possessive of him.”

“You’ve not yet seen how I truly possess him,” Fili teases, his hand already working its way towards Kili’s manhood.

“Yet I would not pass up chance to give you similar treatment,” Thorin replies, reaching around Fili to tease at his hole with a finger.

Already on edge, it takes every ounce of Fili’s self control to refuse him. “Let cock reflect words, dominus,” he says, “Until then, I shall see my brother to deserved end.”

The grin on Thorin’s face tells Fili they wouldn’t be waiting too long. Thorin gives them some space as Kili grabs Fili to him.

“You return to my arms now,” Kili says, his smile sweet and gentle as his greeting.

“I cannot stand being too far from them,” Fili answers, kissing him deep but brief, “I ache for you.”

“Spend no more time on sweet words then,” Kili tells him, grinding purposefully against him, “Reclaim what you alone will always own.”

Before FIli can even ask for it, Thorin is already reaching the oil to him. Fili sits back on his calves only long enough to slick his throbbing member up. Before long, he’s hovering above Kili, cock perfectly positioned, and at a single word from Kili, he thrusts in smoothly. Kili’s moan is long and low, a total contrast to Fili’s sharp intake of breath at finally being inside Kili tonight, Kili’s tight heat enveloping him completely.

“Move, brother,” Kili pleads.

Fili re-adjusts, angling his thrusts right at Kili’s need. Kili writhes underneath him, grabbing at him hungrily and whispering his name like a prayer, and on the fourth home-hitting thrust, he bottoms out. Fili does not wait, knowing neither of them is going to last much longer. He keeps a steady pace, making sure that he brushes up against those sensitive nerves inside Kili with every move. Kili’s legs lock around Fili’s waist, his hips rising off the mattress as they join with Fili’s, his own weeping cock pinned between their bellies in delicious friction. Fili presses himself even more against Kili’s body, overwhelming it with his, and Kili pulls at his hair, begging for release.

Fili is about to say something in response, but he is interrupted when he feels a tongue at his arse, and then Thorin’s lips are on the skin of his bottom, inching ever closer to his most intimate space. Fili quivers, but has barely enough time to consider the thought before it’s happening. First Thorin’s lips and then his tongue are teasing him there, and Fili cannot help but still his movements, his voice catching in his throat as he fights the urge to back into the contact. He has known of no dominus, theirs or others’, to ever do this, and the feeling is so intoxicating, FIli thinks he’ll go blind.

“Fi?” Ki asks, concern painting his face at the expression on Kili’s face.

“Tell him, Fili,” comes Thorin’s voice from behind him. As if for additional encouragement, Thorin nips at his ass sharply.

“He...” Fili tries, “Thorin’s...Fuck, Ki, his mouth is on me. I... _gods,_ I can’t...fuck, that’s good.”

Kili pulls him down and kisses him, and there’s an edge to it that Fili cannot help but love him even more for. Thorin’s hands are on his hips, and they guide his movements as he begins to fuck into Kili again. Kili holds him tight, peppering his damp skin with kisses, whispering ridiculous temptations at him, and were Fili not so clouded with desperate heat, he would find the sweetness in Kili’s sudden jealousy. Instead, he focuses his full attention on Kili, letting him tug at him and claw at him and grab at him, knowing it’s how he yields to Fili, and the tighter he clings, the better he’s feeling. Admittedly though, ignoring Thorin’s mouth feather-like on his skin is a hard feat to accomplish.

“You’re so beautiful, Ki,” Fili breathes, “I cannot believe you’re mine.”

“My heart will never beat for another,” Kili replies, “Oh gods, Fili, I’m close...fuck me, Fili...Yes, gods yes...”

Fili is suddenly distracted by pressure on his hole, and before he can register what is happening, Thorin, stiffness oiled and eager, has slipped easily inside him despite having not been prepared first. The cry that tears itself from Fili’s throat is loud and abrupt, his movements stilling once more. The sudden stretch stings deliciously, even as Thorin pushes even further in, hands gripped tight on Fili’s hips. Fili freezes, his body bending and his forehead resting in the crook of Kili’s shoulder as his body struggles to accommodate Thorin’s length. “Fuck, Kili, he’s inside me,” he moans.

Kili echoes the sound, nodding and licking at the beads of sweat that forms in the hollow of Fili’s throat.

Thorin groans as he keeps pushing until his hips are flat against Fili’s rear. He gives Fili a few experimental thrusts, fingers digging into his hips. As he pulls back, he pulls Fili with him until only the head of Fili’s cock is left inside Kili before driving forwards, pushing himself roughly into Fili and pushing him back into Kili. On the second push, he tilts his hips back and drives Fili harder into Kili. Kili’s mouth falls open in a silent yell as Fili’s hardness brushes over the sensitivity inside him, and he grabs at his brother wildly, pulling Fili down hard against him and clutching, legs spreading wider to take him deeper.

“Oh gods, _fuck_ , harder...”

Fili cannot tell who is pleading because their voices are raw, but he thinks it could have been both Kili and himself. He keeps going, building up a quick, rough rhythm and snapping his hips against Kili’s bum over and over, led by Thorin’s near brutal ministrations. He cannot help but push back into Thorin, whose body responds in kind, arching and rolling, directing the movements of the two men beneath him who shudder and groan with every move he makes.

Things stop making sense after that as they move together, hands grabbing at every inch of flesh then can reach, and they are kissing and biting at each other, sucking red marks into already flushed skin and running tongues over smooth curves and dips where sweat is pooling and dripping. Thorin is moving quicker, reaching round to take hold of Kili’s hips and pulling him down harder, pushing and rocking Fili’s body between them. Kili soon catches on and lifts his arse from the bed again, rocking down to meet Fili’s powerful thrusts as driven by Thorin, and Fili is moaning and growling and folding in on himself, the sensation of being taken by Thorin as Kili clenches around him just too much to take. He can feel climax coming for him, and it’s going to come much too soon, but he cannot find words to stop it, stop them from the way they are both moving into him and fighting over him.

He buries his head against Kili’s chest and cries out, trying to meet the smooth rhythm they have set around him, but he can no longer keep up; His senses are being overwhelmed and he is drowning in the sensation, the smell and the combined heat of them. Every grunt and groan and smack of skin is making the heat coil in his belly and making his fingers tingle and his toes curl and oh _gods_ , it’s going to happen already.

It’s Kili, however, who hits first, the spring unwinding sudden in his spine, and he jerks. “Fuck, Fili, nearly there...”

Thorin leans back and presses one palm against Fili’s spine, causing Fili’s stomach to rub harder against Kili’s cock trapped between their bodies. “Come then, Kili,” he growls, “Spill yourself all over both of you, go ahead.”

Fili chokes on air, holding Kili’s face in his hands and pressing open-mouthed kisses against his jaw. “Let me watch you finish, Kili,” he sighs, “Can’t hold on much longer.”

Kili forces his eyes open, brown eyes locking on deep blue as he finds Fili’s heated gaze, and he lets go, his release taking over him as he shudders and bucks up against his brother, hips rolling as he twitches and spurts seed between their bodies.

“Shit, Kili,” Fili whimpers, weak and desperate and needy, “Thorin...dominus, please...”

Thorin growls in response and sits back on his heels, pulling Fili with him and out of Kili. “Ruin him for us, love,” he hisses into Fili’s ear, “Go on then, show me.”

Fili bucks, wrapping one hand tightly around his cock and stroking in short, quick tugs around the head of it. When Thorin’s hand joins his, Fili cries out, tensing and then spasming in Thorin’s arms as he comes, stream after stream spilling onto Kili’s stomach and thighs.

Thorin gives a few more hard thrusts against Fili before pushing him forward. “So beautiful like this, Fili,” he says, voice rough and gruff as he drives towards his own end, “Give me your voice again. Tell me what you would take from me.”

“All of it, dominus,” Fili sighs breathlessly, “I would take all you give me.”

Thorin’s pace breaks, his body tensing. “...My name,” he asks of Fili, “From your lips. Now.”

“...Thorin.”

With an almost feral groan, Thorin finds his end, spurting into Fili’s pliant body. The heat and wetness makes Fili whimper, his limbs no longer able to keep him up, and he falls upon the mattress as Thorin shudders, chasing his orgasm with a few more futile thrusts. When he finally lets go of Fili and pulls out of him, they are all three of them limpid and weakened and chasing breath.

“Never,” Kili chuckles, already sleepy, “in all my years, have I found such satisfaction in dominus’s bed.” He pokes at Fili’s arm. “And you perceived this a bad idea when first we broke words upon subject.”

“Remove fucking finger, brother,” Fili heaves, “I’ve no strength yet to retaliate. Perhaps in the morning.”

“You would do better to regain strength and save it,” Thorin recommends, “I’ve had but first taste of you, and I desire all of it. Just...not yet.”

“I hear dismissal for the evening, Kili,” Fili says, “Off your arse and on your feet then.”

“Nooooooooooo,” Kili whines, burying himself into his dominus’ sheets.

Thorin laughs. “As I said: insatiable,” he says, “Stay the night, Fili. Too long I have slept and woken alone. I would have no better bedfellow than you both. After all, I doubt your brother would be moved to leave now. Does he snore?”

“No,” Fili tells him, “But I enjoy making him think he does.”

Thorin smiles, amused at first, and then affectionately. “Never has this house seen spirit and beauty like yours,” he says, a hand gentle on Fili’s cheek, “I would have you stay while I own it, if you so desire.”

“As slaves still?” Fili asks.

“I will make effort to see you both free men,” Thorin promises, “It will not be easy, but if in return, you and your brother stay, then it is a difficulty I would only be too happy to face.”

Uncertain that words would ever be enough, Fili nods. He falls asleep at last to feather-like kisses from Thorin and the sound of Kili’s steady, gentle breathing.

 

**_~ END. ~_ **

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If one day, someone asks me to write more for this 'verse, I would kiss them really hard, have their babies, and then write more for this 'verse coz I genuinely loved it.
> 
> Also, yes, I am aware I took MANY liberties with how the slave system worked back in ancient Rome, and I departed quite a bit from the original prompt. No, there's nothing I would like to do about it, to be honest.


	3. DURINCEST (Modern AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: durincest - fili/kili -modren au- fili and kili cuddleing on a couch watching horror movies and kili getting scared and clinging to fili. i just really wanna read some fluff because i find way to many angst fics for this pairing.

"Fi, I'm serious, can we not do this, please?"

Fili pops on a kitchen mit, heading for the microwave. "We've talked about this, little bro," he calls back, "It's tradition!"

"Fuck tradition in the face," Kili groans, "It's tradition to give out candy during Halloween, but I never see you do that."

"Hey, they say 'trick or treat,'" Fili reminds him as he takes out the bag of popcorn, "I just choose trick, that's all I do." He rejoins Kili out in the TV room. "Voila! Le popcorn, le sofa, le sissy baby brother, le scary film. Let's go!"

"How about le let's not and say we did," Kili pouts, picking at the rip in the knee of his jeans.

"Nooooo," Fili says in an ominous tone, "We've been at this 9 years, it's too late to stop now. Here, you can start on this." He hands Kili the popcorn, snickering when the steam burns at Kili's fingers, and starts going through their DVD and Blu Ray collection.

"This is butter!" Kili protests from the couch.

"Yeah, of course it is," Fili replies distractedly from the floor.

"I asked for cheese!" Kili whines.

"Cheese is messy," Fili answers, "...Then again, _you're_ messy, anything you eat always ends up all over the place."

Kili tosses a piece of popcorn at him, aiming for his new haircut, but it's too light to make the distance, and it just sweeps right past Fili's ear.

"See? Told ya," Fili says, "Just for that, we're watching _Jeepers Creepers_."

"Fuck you up your whore ass with a hundred hot fucking pool cues, oh my GOD!" Kili exclaims in one breath, "You bastard, you know that gave me nightmares for fucking WEEKS!"

"I do know that," Fili answers slyly.

"God, I hate you," Kili groans, "I really fucking hate you. I'm gonna tell Unc."

"What are you, six?" Fili chuckles, "Besides, you know what he's gonna say, right? He's just gonna tell you to grow a pair, or do that thing you do when you know you're gonna have 'barreamses' again."

Teasing Kili with his childhood name for nightmares earns Fili a pillow to the back of the head.

"Look, can we just...I dunno, cheat just this once? Let's put on a scary movie that's not really scary. Like _Silent Hill_ or _The Woman in Black_."

When Fili looks over at Kili, he finds a sincerely exasperated, frustrated pout, and the thing about Kili is that when he pouts, he looks like he's about 10 years old, and that's when it's hard to say no to him.

"You adorable little shit," Fili sighs, unable to help the smile creeping across his face, "Fine, but just this once. Besides, Pyramid Head still scares the crap out of you."

"Where the HELL is that helmet even attached to?!" Kili points out as justification," And he's got that gigantic knife, and he walks like he's got giant balls, and he's only _wearing a towel_ half the time! You saw what it did to those Mannequins in the game! At the same time, Fi! _AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME_!"

Fili chuckles as the DVD starts loading. "And this is why I insist on this tradition," he says, plopping himself down beside Kili, "To see you freak out."

"I'm glad you enjoy my misery, you insensitive cad," Kili mutters darkly as Fili wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into him.

"It's purely for selfish reasons too," Fili replies as he presses play on the movie, "I like it when you need me."

"D'awww," Kili coos, placing a gentle kiss on his shoulder, "I'm always gonna need you."

Fili responds by planting a kiss on his brother's forehead. Kili takes that either as his cue or his opportunity, and tilts his head up just enough to kiss Fili properly, possessive in the way he clings to him. He gets a startled sigh out of Fili before he's being pushed away.

"Hey, no, hey," Fili chuckles, "we're watching a movie, remember?"

"Fuck the movie," Kili breathes, attaching his lips to the side of Fili's neck instead.

"Something tells me it's not the movie you want me to do that to," Fili answers, jerking slightly when Kili's hand finds itself between his legs, "Ugh, you cheat."

"Come ooooon, Fi," Kili whines, "I'm not asking you to turn the movie off, am I?"

"No, but you trying to turn me on is just as good as," Fili points out, "Come on, Ki, not now, this has Sean Bean in it."

Kili retreats, wrinkling his nose. "And you prefer Mr Dies In Almost Everything He's In over me, is that it?"

"Not really," Fili answers, hitting the rewind button, "Although I wouldn't be opposed to him ruining me five ways to Sunday."

"Yeah, you also said that about that other actor who was in that other thing the other day," Kili huffs, "What was his name again? Omelette? Appendage?"

"Armitage, you git," Fili corrects him, sounding as if this is something Kili should have known forever, "Seriously, bro, pay attention, I could be married to him one day, then you'll have to learn how to say his name right. Now shut up, my other boyfriend is on."

Kili throws a handful of popcorn at him. Fili retaliates with a two-finger salute, eyes glued to the widescreen TV.

"I really hate you sometimes, you know that?" Kili says, reassuming his previous position in Fili's arms.

"Liar," Fili remarks, "Oh hey, Kili, look!"

Kili does, just as Pyramid Head makes his first appearance in the movie. Kili yelps, grabbing a throw pillow and smacking Fili in the face with it.

"Idiot!" Kili exclaims as Fili proceeds to die of laughter.

Fili grabs Kili and ruffles his long hair, still laughing. Kili twists so that he's laying in Fili's lap, and launches pokes at either side of Fili's ribs, where he's unnaturally sensitive. It does the trick; Fili bucks with an undignified whimper.

"There's more where that came from!" Kili threatens, arming his fingers for more.

"Okay, okay, I give!" Fili relents, still laughing, "Now can we watch in peace?"

"You do that to me again, and you'll be watching in pieces," Kili warns him.

"Yeah, yeah," Fili chuckles, "Now shut up and get scared so I can comfort you later."

"I do like getting comforted," Kili relents, adjusting his position so he can face the TV, his head still in Fili's lap.

 

**_~ END. ~_ **


	4. DURINCEST (Fili/Thorin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Can I ask for Thorin/Fili in Mirkwood/the Dungeons? Like maybe Thorin is worried about Fili because Thranduil was looking at him speculatively or something? (Worst prompt ever, sorry D:)

Thorin looks up when he hears the lock rattle. Light floods the dungeon as the door swings open heavily, and the red-haired she-Elf leads Fili inside wordlessly.

“If you would but tell the Elven King of your purpose in our forest,” she says, voice soft as a bird’s yet her tone anything but, “You might avoid such a fate. Our dungeons were not made to hold a great King and his Company, and nor were nobles meant to be behind bars.”

“If my King has not revealed it,” Fili replies evenly, “then I have no authority to do so, even if I wanted it.”

The Elf shakes her head. “Then I fear you shall find yourselves detained until you change your mind,” she answers, and Thorin can hear the threat in her tone, “Although I doubt he would be opposed to having _you_ remain.”

Fili does not reply, merely keeps his head up and holds her enigmatic gaze. He stands his ground, and Thorin thinks he strikes quite the regal figure, and he would be proud if the Elf’s words hadn’t struck him strongly.

The Elf shuts the door and locks them in, throwing Thorin and his eldest nephew into almost pitch-like darkness. There are only torches along the wall to give them light, but it is barely enough. Thorin sees Fili’s shoulders relax, and he calls to him softly.

“Uncle?” Fili calls back, clearly surprised, “This is where they have you?”

“Days now,” Thorin replies, “Can you see me?”

“Yes,” Fili answers, and Thorin can hear his heavy footsteps draw nearer, until the dim light of the torch shows Fili sitting against the opposite wall, “My apologies, Thorin.”

“For what?” asks Thorin.

“We should not have been captured,” Fili tells him, “I know you would have wanted us to press on even without you.”

“You would not have known the way,” Thorin points out, “I still have the map.”

“...Ah.”

“Tell me what she meant. The Elf. What did she mean about the Elven King?”

No response.

“...Fili?”

“He looked upon me strangely, Uncle,” mutters Fili, “He tried to turn me against you.”

Thorin can feel his anger bubbling, but he remains silent, letting Fili go on.

“He complimented my hair,” continues Fili, and Thorin can tell he is uneasy about this particular bit, “He said he had never seen a fairer Dwarf before, and had no doubt that I would make a far more splendid King, one he would not be opposed to forging a long friendship with. He was fascinated by my hair. He compared me to gold.”

The disgust had risen in Fili’s tone with every word, and with it, Thorin’s rage. Fili, however, isn’t finished.

“He accused you of being short-sighted. He warned me that your temper would bring us all to ruin before we even reached our destination. He promised me wealth, and the loyalty of his people in time of need, if I would but tell him how we came upon his forest.”

“And what did you tell him?” inquires Thorin darkly.

“Exactly where he should put his wealth and what exactly he should do with it once there,” replies Fili, and even in the dim, Thorin thinks Fili is blushing, “It was a threat made with words not befitting one of royalty, but my hackles had risen. I refused to continue listening to him speak about you that way. He does not know you, does not know what you’ve been through for us. He must think even less of me if he thinks he can buy my attentions.”

“And yet he cast a strange glance upon you,” Thorin reminds him.

He thinks he sees Fili shudder. “It was when he called me golden and fair,” narrates Fili, “It seemed to me that he would touch me even, but he didn’t. He said it so gently.”

“As I have?”

“Yes, and no. It felt different coming from him. I know your meaning when _you_ tell it to me, but his intentions seemed far from friendly or diplomatic. I fear he will seek me out again until he gets what he wants from me.”

“And what do you think he wants from you?”

“Nothing I am willing to give.”

“And if he deigns to take it from you?”

“I would rather die.”

Fili had said it so darkly, and with so much hostility, that Thorin cannot help but feel even more endearment for him. He rises from his spot to join Fili by his side. “He was right about one thing, nephew,” he remarks with a smile, “You will one day make a great King, when it is your time, and I would only be too proud to pass the throne to you, if Mahal wills me to still be alive then, if far too old.”

“I can only hope to be so worthy of your praise and your throne, Uncle,” Fili answers.

“You will be,” Thorin tells him, placing a hand on his cheek, “Until then, rest assured that your loyalty to me will not go unrewarded.”

Fili leans into the caress of his hand. “My loyalty is not all you have,” he says, grinning softly and invitingly.

Thorin meets his lips with his own, the kiss tender as it usually is. It is Fili who deepens it, Fili who clutches at the underthings that they have been stripped down to by the Elves in an effort to keep them from escaping, Fili who moans low and pulls his Uncle closer, but Thorin pulls away.

“Not the time and place, my love,” he breathes, yet tempted by the soft swell of Fili’s lips.

“They mean to keep us here until one of us cracks and reveals our true plight,” Fili reminds him, voice low and silky, “And seeing as how that is not going to happen at all...”

Thorin jumps slightly, gasping a little when Fili’s hand slips along his thigh and closes around his manhood. “I’ll be quiet, I promise,” Fili whispers, chuckling a little, “Well, I would _try_.”

Fili knows exactly what it takes to make Thorin’s knees weak with need, and yet Thorin’s sense of propriety is battling his greed. He would relish the chance to have his way with Fili right here, right now (it has been much too long indeed, the night before he left for the Iron Hills for the meeting having been their last opportunity together), but at the same time, they are prisoners, vulnerable without their weapons and separated from the others. It is the thought that he has no knowledge of where the rest of the Company are that finally does the trick. He manages to pull Fili’s hand away, fixing him with a firm look.

“Willing as you are, Fili,” Thorin says as evenly as possible, “And tempted as I am, there are more pressing matters at hand. How to escape from here, for example. Priorities, FIli, remember them.”

Fili tries hard, so very hard indeed, to keep the disappointment off his face. “Of course,” Fili says, withdrawing from Thorin, “My apologies, Uncle.”

Thorin laughs behind closed lips. He leans in and plants one chaste kiss in Fili’s flaxen hair. “I’m sure we’ll have our chance before we reach the mountain,” he says, “But for now, we must keep clear heads.”

Fili nods, clearing his throat and in some obvious strain. Thorin allows himself a little bit of smugness at the thought that he could cause such feelings in Fili. He fights it down quickly, before it can cause him the same kind of trouble Fili is currently battling.

“Soon, my little golden gift,” Thorin promises quietly.

Beside him, Fili just sighs.

 

**~ _END. ~_**


	5. Richaidan (AU; Aidan works for Richard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: OMG, are you willing to write AU Richaidan? If yes here's my prompt : Aidan is starting his internship in Richard's company (jewelry shop maybe?). Richard always takes time with his employee but with Aidan there is something more. (the way aidan smile at him, always laugh at his jokes or try to make eye contact with him)... I would love you forever if you could write something about this >_

It's not even really that he's particularly special in any way.

It's definitely not that incessantly cheerful smile of his, the one that makes Richard think that the day is going to be pretty good no matter what happens or that they're going to make a pretty big sale or something. Well, sure, that smile looks like it's made of sunshine and cupcakes and rainbows and babies' first words and that new car smell, but that's all just details, isn't it?

It's not the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, or that particular laugh he does. It doesn't even really sound like anyone else's laugh, so Richard would be able to identify it from across the store. He'd probably be able to identify it across the country if he had bionic hearing. Not that he would ever have to, it's just a useful little fact to know.

It's not even about what a hard-worker he is, almost always being the first to arrive, and one of the last to leave. He's always helping to clean up before and after shift, even if it's not really part of his job description. As if he really needs to be better than Employee of the Month or Clients' Favorite – which he has been several times, by the way. In the past 2 years since he started working here.  _Seriously_.

And it's not that thick Irish accent of his, which is involuntarily charming. From anyone else, it could come across as pretty aggressive – Nesbitt, for example, but then Nesbitt is touch-and-go, plus he can be such a dickhead when he wants to be – but from  _him_ , it just sounds really sweet almost. He could be reading the goddamn phonebook, and that accent could make it sound like the deepest, most romantic poem in the world.

It's totally not the hair, it's so not the hair either. The first time they met – when he had come looking for a job – it had been nearly down to his shoulders, all crazy curls as black as oil, almost like he fell asleep in the courts of 15th century France and woke up in 21st century England. He showed up for work a couple of weeks later stubble-free and with a new haircut, (if you could call it that – he was still curly everywhere but at least he was less Gary Oldman in Dracula and more Robert Sheehan in Misfits) and suddenly you could see more of his boyish face, and for a few seconds, Richard hadn't even recognized him as the guy he had hired. Oh, but then he had smiled, apologizing for being too early, and that's what made Richard go, “...Oh yeah, that's right.” He hasn't again let his hair grow out that much, but sometimes Richard wishes he would, just so he'd be distracted from the face and the smile and the eyes.

_Goddammit._

Okay, it's all of that, really, but there's so much more to it than that. Richard can't really explain it. He just knows that it's  _there_ , and he knows because when Aidan shows up for work it makes Richard smile, and when Aidan leaves at the end of the day it makes Richard lonely. It's enough to make Richard forget sometimes that he's a well-educated, dignified 40-year-old business owner when Aidan comes up and talks to him. And it doesn't even have to be a full sentence, sometimes it's just a simple, “Hey, boss!” and Richard's brain turns to fucking jelly. Richard's pretty sure this isn't normal behavior, or that Aidan is even aware that any of this is happening, much less that he's causing it. So Richard stays quiet, choosing to show his affection (“Affection? Puh!” snorted Shakespeare derisively) in other, (hopefully) more subtle ways.

Because he, Richard, is a stuffy, jaded old businessman codger, and Aidan is young and cheerful and virile and has way too much life left to waste on someone like Richard. It's a slightly dark thought, but one that's totally realistic, and there's a lot of things that Richard isn't, but realistic is definitely not part of that list.

So it takes Richard completely by surprise when one night, Aidan, who has just helped clean up and is halfway out the door after bidding him goodnight, stops and turns and suddenly asks him out for coffee. Richard chokes on air, recovering quickly by clearing his throat.

“You okay there?” Aidan asks.

“Yeah,” Richard replies, turning so that Aidan can't see him blushing, “Fine, just...I'm not sure I heard you right. Did you ask me if I--”

“--Wanted to go for coffee,” Aidan finishes for him, slightly bemused, “Yeah, I did.”

“...Oh,” Richard says, and he's pretty sure if he had a twin brother, he'd be kicking him up the arse for that, “Thought you...well, I...” He's running out of things to pretend to be busy with since Aidan's taken care of most of it already ( _Thorough bastard_ , Richard thinks), “It's just coffee, right?”

“Just coffee,” Aidan echoes in assurance, and there's still a divine little smile in the corner of his mouth, so at least Richard isn't completely fucking up.

Richard shrugs, trying to go for nonchalance. “Oh, go on then,” he says, and if that imaginary twin of his was kicking his ass earlier, it's probably shooting him with a shotgun point-blank right now for being an obtuse tosser, “Can't hurt, can it?”

“Not unless you're allergic to something in the drink,” Aidan chuckles, “It definitely shouldn't. Come on, my treat.”

Richard stops in his tracks again at that, and Aidan full on laughs that ludicrously adorable, distinct laugh of his, and it extends to his eyes, and  _dammit, Richard, quit staring_.

“I'm serious though,” Aidan offers, “Come on, it's just once. You're out with James a lot.”

“James is my best mate,” Richard counters.

“And I'm your best employee,” Aidan shoots back, and Richard cannot help but laugh because he's got him there, “Come oooon, Rich, you know you want to.”

This level of familiarity is nothing new between them, in fact, Richard encourages it in the store (as long as they show the proper level of respect, it's all good), but somehow, now that he's alone with Aidan, the sound of his name in that voice, in that accent, from those lips, on  _that man,_ sends a nice little shiver down Richard's spine. And it's probably this, more than anything else, that finally steels his reserve to go for coffee with him, although he's probably never going to admit that to anyone. So with a shrug of acquiescence, he grabs his keys and his bag, as Aidan waits for him outside. As he's locking up, Aidan tells him that his favorite coffee place is just a block down, but if Richard prefers a Starbucks, there's one a couple of blocks the other way. Richard tells him to lead the way, and Aidan pads off towards the other coffee place. Richard follows beside him, putting his bag in between them (lest he do or say something stupid).

Once they're there, Aidan directs Richard over to a cozy little corner as one of the baristas, a rather thin, pale but cheerfully faced slip of a thing, waves at Aidan and asks if he wants his usual, as if it's a bar instead of a coffee shop.

“Yeah,” Aidan calls back, “Oh, and something else.” He goes over to the counter, telling Richard to go ahead and have a seat, he'll be right back. Richard settles himself into one of the armchairs, and is just ever so slightly amused at how it manages to almost swallow him up, it's that damn big.  _Where do chairs like these even come from?_

When Aidan finally joins him, he's got that big, bright smile on, and it's almost like he's bouncing. “Nice place,” Richard manages to say, and what a thing to say too.  _Nice place_. Ah, the height of eloquence.

Fortunately, Aidan seems fine with it. “Isn't it though?” he agrees, “Been coming here since I moved from Dublin.”

“Why  _did_  you move, if you don't mind my asking?” Richard asks, and Aidan grins at him again, and Richard can't help but wonder if his cheeks aren't tired from doing that (he hopes they aren't).

“Mum wanted me out of the house,” Aidan replies, “Said she was through feeding a giant baby.” At the look on Richard's face, his own breaks into another laugh, and  _seriously,_ is his blood just made of “hehehe's” and rainbow smiles? “Kidding, of course. I wanted a change of scenery.”

“Interesting choice of scenery to change to,” Richard remarks, and Aidan chuckles, shrugging.

“Just addicted to the city life, I guess,” he replies, just as Aidan's barista friend arrives with their tray.

“There you are, Aidz,” says the little guy (because he really does look little), “Just like you said.”

“Thanks, man,” Aidan greets, winking at the guy, who blushes a bit as he rushes back behind the counter. Richard bites the inside of his cheek; he's not supposed to be jealous, and yet...

“Friend of yours?” he asks, going for casual.

“Sorta,” Aidan answers, sipping from his large mug. He's looking over the top of it at Richard, and there's something in his eyes that tells Richard he totally failed at casual. Richard covers by sipping from his coffee too. Thankfully, it's divine – smooth, strong, just the right amount of cream, and if he's not mistaken, just a pinch of cinnamon. Now that, that right there, that is just  _silly_. How in the world could Aidan know that he likes his coffee with a little cinnamon? How the  _fuck_  would he know something like that? Fucking ridiculous.

“Are you going to ask me at all what I mean by that?” Aidan asks him.

Richard casts his eyes just to the left of Aidan's face, instead of right at him. “I wasn't under the impression that you wanted me to,” he returns.

“You totally look like you want to though,” Aidan observes, “Go ahead then.”

The expression on Aidan's face rearranges itself into a mixture of amusement and challenge, and God help him, Richard thinks it's insanely sexy. So he indulges, for once in his life. It's not often that he gets the chance to, much less that the chance is  _given_  to him.

“Okay then, I'll bite,” Richard says, fixing Aidan with a look of his own, “What did you mean by that?”

Aidan smirks now, as if he has been waiting to take someone here  _just for this moment._ He cocks his head towards the other end of the counter, at a man built just a little bigger but can't be much older than Richard, only with a lot less hair. “See that guy over there?” Aidan says, “That's Graham. He's a 'friend' of my mum's, and by 'friend' I mean they used to bang the hell out of each other when dad was away. He's never had any kids of his own, but Adam – that's the barista – was his eldest sister's son, and he took him in when she died of cancer when he was about 20-something. Adam was about 2 or 3 years old at the time, and Graham used to use him as an excuse to come see mum. Adam and I were basically stuck out in the living room coz you could hear the noise through my walls. Adam got up to some pretty strange stuff. I remember him running naked around the garden until he tripped and fell face-first into a puddle of mud, and me not doing anything about it coz I couldn't give two fucks.

“Anyway, Adam and I grew up together, like literally together, even went to the same schools as I did, and one night, he got so drunk, he ended up in my dorm room and woke up the next day naked in my bed with absolutely no idea how that happened. He's kind of hoping I would forget all about it one day, but fat fucking chance.”

_Moron says 'what?'_ thinks Richard's imaginary twin, and Richard answers back with a punch to his imaginary balls so he can get back to the smug little smile hiding at the edges of Aidan's pretty little lips.

“So...did you...?” Richard trails off, leaving the question in the air (mainly because he's not sure he wants to hear the answer).

“If Adam doesn't know, then you don't get to know either,” Aidan answers, and there's only so much Richard can do to keep from kissing that sinfully sexy, smug smirk off his face. So he busies himself with his coffee again, the scent of cinnamon comforting and yet tantalizing at the same time.  _Just like Aidan_.

“Fine then,” Richard answers into his coffee cup.

There's a laugh in Aidan's features that refuses to die as he watches Richard, and dammit if Richard isn't the one blushing again. How the hell does Aidan do that?

“How's your coffee?” Aidan asks, just a little less mysterious now.

“Heavenly,” Richard replies, because it really is.

“I thought you might appreciate the cinnamon,” Aidan says.

“How did you even know?” Richard wonders out loud.

“You smell like cinnamon,” Aidan tells him, “I don't know if it's deliberate, but I like it. It's...intoxicating.”

...Is that a foot slowly climbing up Richard's calf?

...That's a foot slowly climbing up Richard's calf.

More than that, that's  _Aidan's foot_  slowly climbing up Richard's calf.

That's also a thinly veiled come-hither look Aidan's shooting Richard over his own mug.

“Aidan, are you flirting with me?”

“I don't flirt. Don't mean to sound smug, but I don't usually have to.”

“So what is this, then?”

“What do you think this is?”

“A blatant attempt to get a raise?”

Aidan laughs again. “Either you're obtuse, or I've lost my mojo big time,” he says, and then his foot is no longer in contact with Richard's leg, and Richard sighs in relief, “Was I not being mysterious enough?”

It's Richard's turn to chuckle. “So that's what you brought me here for?” he asks Aidan, “To make fun of the fact that I like you a little too much for it to be appropriate anymore? Did Jimmy put you up to this?”

Aidan's eyebrow goes up, nearly disappearing into his hairline, a bemused grin on his face. “Jimmy didn't put me up to anything, Richard,” he says quietly.

_Crap_.

“Well, things just got  _really_  interesting,” Aidan remarks, stirring his coffee, licking the teaspoon afterwards, and that's probably not part of the act anymore, but dammit if that isn't fucking sexy, “And here's me thinking I had a lot of work to do.”

Christ, this can't be real right now. No way. Things like this don't happen to people like Richard. Fuck, things like this don't happen, period. It's too easy, it's way too easy. This is still real life, isn't it? This isn't some cheesy romantic comedy, and Aidan's not Julia Roberts and he's not Richard Gere, are they?

“We should probably go,” Richard says, picking up his bag and standing up, mostly to try and not see the look of utter confusion on Aidan's face, “Thanks for the coffee, mate. It's been...” But he doesn't really know how to describe what the past 20 minutes have been, so he leaves it at that.

Before he's even out the door, Richard feels like a total arse for having just upped and left, but there's nothing for it now. So he strides purposefully out, debating on whether to pick the pace up as he walks back towards his shop, where his car still is. Aidan's going to  _hate_  him now, but it's better than what could eventually  _happen_ if –

Richard isn't even halfway back to the shop when he hears Aidan calling after him. Dreading the conversation he knows there's no escaping, he stops to let Aidan catch up to him. He's expecting him to be angry or to be hurt.

He doesn't expect what he actually hears.

“I'm sorry,” Aidan says when he's caught up with Richard, and he looks it, he absolutely looks it, “I overstepped, and I didn't mean to, and now I've scared you away, and now things are gonna be super awkward at work, I'm so sorry.”

The world is both inside-out and upside-down, and Richard thinks he's getting a headache.

“Please be kidding me right now,” Richard says, although it wasn't what he meant to say, “Shouldn't  _I_ be the one apologizing to you?”

“For what?” Aidan asks.

“For just leaving,” Richard replies, “For making you feel like you even need to apologize for anything. For...I don't know, making you think I didn't like it, or something.”

Aidan's face brightens a little at this. Richard should probably leave it at that, but the look on Aidan's face is causing word-vomit.

“Christ, Aidan, you've got no idea,” Richard confesses, “I don't even know when it happened, or why it happened, but one day I came to work, and you were there, and you just...I don't even know  _what_  happened, but it happened. I've kept my distance because I'm your boss, first of all, and secondly, because if you're going to end up with someone, it shouldn't be me, because I'm a tired old tosser with very little to offer you.”

“There's a compliment in there somewhere, I think I heard it,” Aidan remarks, “But I think I also heard you say that you think the world of me and nothing of yourself and that you don't deserve me somehow.”

Richard just shrugs. How incredibly succinct.

“You've got it all backwards, Rich,” Aidan chuckles, “Do you know how much I've looked up to you since I met you? You're incredible, really. Self-made man with just enough ego to be proud of what he's accomplished in life without being a smug little shit about it. You own your own fucking business, for fuck's sake. And what am I? What have  _I_  done in my life? My greatest accomplishment is how I've managed to keep a secret from Adam as long as I have. And no, I didn't do anything to him, by the way, but you're not allowed to tell him that. You're one of the nicest, kindest, most decent people I've ever met, and yeah, I've got a massive,  _massive_  crush on you, if that's not weird for me to say.”

“Too late for boundaries, I think,” Richard jokes, and Aidan smiles appreciatively, so Richard starts walking again, trying hard to keep his heartbeat calm, “But you do know that I don’t deserve you, right? And you know that you deserve better than me, don’t you?”

Aidan shrugs. “Be that as it may,” he says, “Even if I thought for one second that that was true...I mean, what if what I deserve isn’t what I want?”

It’s sweet, really, and kind of romantic in that impossibly cheesy way that Richard will _never_ admit to anyone that he actually likes. “So,” he says with a soft smile, starting to walk towards the shop again, “This is where we're at then, eh?”

“It's a strange place to be at, to be perfectly honest,” Aidan replies, falling right into step with him, “Never really been here before. What should we do about it?”

There are a  _million_  things that Richard thinks they can do about it, only about 2/3 of them actually innocent. “How about I drive you home?” Richard offers, “We don't really have to talk about this again or do anything about it until we're totally sure anyway.”

“You don't really have to,” Aidan replies.

“I want to,” Richard answers, “You paid for my coffee, after all.”

“Actually, I didn't,” Aidan tells him, slightly sheepish, “Graham lets me have anything I want for free coz he wants to stay in mum's good books. Also because I'm a cheap bastard. So when I say that you don't  _have_ to drive me home, it actually means that I  _want_  you to drive me home because I don't want to spend for bus fare.”

Richard lets out a full laugh, and it mixes with Aidan’s. It sounds nice. It _feels_ nice. Richard refuses to think it’s just because he’s been without someone for far too long.

They spend the ride to Aidan’s place in relative silence, occasionally singing along to the radio if there’s a good song on (the look on Aidan’s face when he realized Richard knows _Somebody That I Used to Know_ word-perfect is absolutely _priceless_ ), and when they get to Aidan’s small flat, they’ve both got soft little smiles on their faces.

“This is me then,” Aidan says, slightly awkward, “Do you...D’you wanna come in, or...”

Aidan isn’t looking at Richard, but there’s no hiding or disguising the hope in his tone. It’s cute, it’s so damn cute. But...

“I’m not sure that’d be a good idea, Aidan,” Richard tells him gently, “Not yet, anyway.”

Aidan nods slowly. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, “Well, thanks, Richard. For, you know...”

Suddenly Aidan is all stammering, uncertain and awkward. It’s not a completely different side to Aidan, but it’s a pretty endearing one and Richard would give anything to be the one to protect him from having to feel that way ever again.

_Easy, Richard, easy._

“Can I try something?” Aidan asks.

“What?” Richard asks in return, turning to Aidan. He immediately finds Aidan’s lips on his own in a tentative kiss. Once he’s past the surprise, Richard reaches up and touches Aidan’s cheek, deepening the kiss just a little. He feels Aidan sigh and open his mouth just a little to him before breaking the kiss himself. When Aidan pulls away, he’s clearly fighting down a grin.

“That was better than I thought it was gonna be,” Aidan says, his face contorting immediately as if to say that he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, so Richard keeps his chuckle to a bare minimum.

“There’s more where that came from too,” he ends up saying, groaning himself and mirroring Aidan’s expression; he had NOT meant to say _that_ out loud either.

“Sure hope so,” Aidan replies, and there’s that edge again, although it’s softened slightly, “Save some for future use, yeah?”

“Right,” Richard laughs.

“Well...” Aidan trails off, “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

“See you,” Richard greets back as Aidan opens the door and steps out of the car.

 

 

**_~ to be continued ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOPS I ACCIDENTALLY SMUT SEQUEL - http://archiveofourown.org/works/806373


	6. BRITCHELL/MITCHERS - Anders' Cat Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Either Anders or Mitchell ends up with cat ears because godly shenanigans and whoever doesn't have the ears can't stop petting and scratching at them. The one with ears completely denies that they enjoy it even if they are leaning into the caresses and maybe purring

“Leave it! Fuck it, I said fucking _leave it_!”

Mitchell doesn't even bother trying not to snicker as he continues to reach for the cat ears protruding from Anders' head, covered in fur as strawberry blond as his hair. Neither of them are really sure how it happened, but it happened. Mitchell had been sleeping pretty well until a thunderous “WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK?!” from Anders' bedroom woke him. He had rushed right over to find Anders in front of his mirror prodding at his ears with a finger. At first, it had all been pretty alarming, but the longer Anders fussed over the damn things, the more amused Mitchell became. One of the goddesses – Ingrid, if Mitchell can remember her name right – had called not long after to ask if something had popped up in Anders' house. Mitchell thinks it may have been Gaia and that Michelle girl mucking about. Anders blames everybody.

“But I've always wanted a pet cat!” Mitchell says cheerily, scratching just behind the right ear, “D'awww, look at you, you're so precious.”

“STOP!” Anders whines, batting his hand away, “I'm warning you, bloodsucker, you fucking touch me like that again and I'll--”

“You'll purr even louder?” Mitchell laughs.

Anders looks absolutely horrified. “I did not _purr_!” he protests, and Mitchell just bursts into more laughter, “I was no---Mitchell, I did not fucking _purr_!” But Mitchell doesn't stop; he's even actually sort of tearing up now, the bastard. “Fuck you then, I'm gonna go get some breakfast.”

“We're fresh out of milk, I'm afraid, or I'd be pouring you some into a dish right now!” Mitchell calls after Anders' retreating back, “Awww, why don't you have a tail? This would be even better if you had a tail!”

“What, so you could pull it and play doorbell?” Anders shoots back, “That's why I don't have a tail, Mitchell, it's coz nobody likes you.”

“Yeah, you can throw whatever insults you want my way, man,” Mitchell snorts, “Fact is, you're the one standing there with kitten ears that you like getting scratched, not me.”

“ _I do not like my kitten ears getting scratched_ ,” Anders hisses through gritted teeth. But as one hand opens the fridge door, the other reaches behind him and does start scratching a little, as if there's something back there that's irritating him and he can't quite get it out. “Fuck, what happened to all the mayo?!”

“I didn't know cats liked mayo,” Mitchell remarks.

“ _I-am-not-a-fucking-cat-just-because-I-have-cat-ears-fuck-you_ ,” Anders replies in one sharp breath.

“No, of course you aren't,” Mitchell coos playfully, “Now, who wants a little ball of yarn to get tangled in? Is it my little kitty-witty? Who's a pretty little kitty, Anders, is it you? Huh? Is it you? I bet it's you!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, MITCHELL, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

This just sends Mitchell into another fit of laughter. Anders plops down into one of the dining chairs, acquainting his head with the table as he lets out a strangled “Fuuuuuuuuuck, I hate you so much.”

Mitchell's laughter fades gradually. _Very_ gradually. Anders doesn't move from where he is, not even when he hears the chair beside him scraping against the floor as Mitchell pulls it out to sit beside Anders. And then Mitchell's chin is on Anders' shoulder blade, and it's kind of comforting, really. A little. Just a little.

“Aaaaaanders,” Mitchell says softly.

“Doooooon't,” Anders replies, the word slightly muffled, “I fucking hate everything right now.”

“Is it coz it's a Monday?” asks Mitchell, barely able to keep from chuckling.

Anders launches a finger at Mitchell's ribs, and it's effective in making him move away. A little. Just a little.

“I hate them,” Anders mumbles, “I hate them all. I'm pretty sure they all know by now, and somewhere, Mike's just fucking _loving_ this, and he's a bastard, ugh, I swear, I hate them _all_.”

“Hey, this was probably just an accident,” Mitchell says placatingly, stroking Anders' back, “A funny, cute accident, but an accident. I'm sure it'll be gone soon. Ingrid might find a way to make it go away.”

Anders responds by pounding his head on the table a few times. Mitchell risks moving closer again, planting just a small kiss on Anders' shoulder, before carefully reaching up and stroking a little through his hair. That always helps Anders, although it's not something he's explicitly told Mitchell. He just sort of figured it out ages ago. It's working again now; Anders is visibly relaxing, his shoulders drooping, his arms going limp under the table. His dimple is slowly making an appearance, and Mitchell takes that as a good sign. He risks a little higher, just below the back of Anders' neck, and he actually hears Anders hum in contentment at that. Yeah, that always works pretty well too.

“Feeling better?” Mitchell asks him.

“No, I still have fucking cat ears,” Anders replies, but with a lot less venom than he had probably intended to, “That's nice though, keep doing that.”

Anders' head is still down, so Mitchell applies just a tad more pressure. “Yeah, that,” Anders says, “That's nice.”

Mitchell slowly, ever so slowly, inches his way up, until he's stroking at the top of Anders' head with his index and middle finger. Anders' head starts to move a little, as if he's trying to get more contact.

And then his cat ears twitch.

Mitchell has to suck his entire bottom lip in to keep from laughing because, really, that was just _ridiculously_ adorable. He traces his finger all the way down to Anders' nape, where he's excessively sensitive, just to see if it happens again.

It does.

“...Mitchell, I _swear_.”

“What?! I'm not doing anything!”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“That?”

“This?” He does it again, going from the top down to Anders' nape.

Anders' cat ears give a bit of shudder this time, the left one actually kind of _rotating._ “Yes, that, you bastard!” Anders huffs, rising from his chair and stomping away from Mitchell, “Just...UGH, you are not helping at ALL!”

“Aww, come on,” Mitchell says, standing too and catching Anders before he can get away, “Come on, shush now, angry little god of poetry.” He pulls Anders flush against him, back to chest, and wraps his arms around Mitchell. The height difference comes into stark contrast, and it's just pissing Anders off even more.

“Leggo, you eggo,” Anders mutters.

“Nooooo, I like cuddling my pet kitty,” Mitchell says, full-on scratching behind Anders' ear now.

“You're going the right way for a kick in the fucking nuts, you know that?” Anders answers, but he's actually moving into the touch, trying to get Mitchell's fingers to a specific spot just at the top of his right ear.

“I'm sure I am,” Mitchell replies, his fingers finding that exact place by Anders' right ear that Anders has been manipulating them towards.

And then Anders _purrs_.

Actually fucking _purrs_.

Not like a human purrs, but like a cat purrs, from the belly.

And even if it isn't really all that loud, Mitchell feels it where his other arm is clutching Anders to him. Mitchell scratches a little deeper, and the purring gets kicked up a notch.

“D'awwww, such a precious widdle kitty-witty,” Mitchell coos.

“Fuck you all the way to China, man,” Anders answers, sounding resigned to the fact that yes, he actually is liking that quite a bit, “Not a fucking word of this to anybody, you got me?”

“Don't use my leather jackets to sharpen your claws and you've got yourself a deal,” Mitchell says.

Anders can't even be angry enough to elbow him in the ribs.

 

_**~ END. ~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH NO, I'm so sorry this is so short! This is legit all I had juice for. D:


	7. GORMITAGE; Unhappy with others, they find each other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PROMPT** : I have a Gormitage prompt for you :) Dean is unhappy in love with Aidan. Richard is unhappy in love with Martin, who's married. Both of them being unhappy in love find eachothers company, have meaningless sex, a lot of it, and somehow, without realizing, don't just have sex, but do all kinds of stuff together and fall in love and everything :) And please make them even, and not Dean "the younger, childish one" since they are both equal adults, I would really like that :)

There's this story...Well, it's not really so much of a story. Could a myth really be called a story?

There's this myth about a guy named Icarus, who wore fake wings to be able to escape the Labyrinth. He was told not to fly too close to the sun, or else the heat would melt the wax that held everything together, and he would fall.

Icarus didn't listen. Icarus got cocky. Icarus got too close to the sun, and his wings were destroyed. He fell. He fell hard and fast. He didn't survive.

There's also this other story...Well, it's not really so much of a story either. Could someone's relationship woes really be called a story?

There's this story about a guy named Dean, who was warned not to get too close to Aidan. He's a great guy, they said, all rainbow smiles and cupcake laughs, and he's even nicer once you get to really know him, but really don't get too close, bit of a heartbreaker that one. Too free with his affections, you never know when it stops being real, someone told Dean. So Dean promised them he wouldn't get invested, that he'd be careful, that he wouldn't let Aidan get to him.

Dean didn't listen. Dean got cocky. Dean got too close to Aidan, and his wings got destroyed too. He fell. He fell hard and fast. It was heavenly for a while. But then Dean looked down once, just once, and those few seconds cost him big time. He fell again, but in a very different, and a lot more painful way. He doesn't stop falling, and every mile down just hurts more and more, because when he looks up, he just sees Aidan drifting farther and farther.

When he finally lands, it's in a fuckload of alcohol and smoke.

“Sorry, Dean, not tonight, I've got...stuff.”

“Sorry, Dean, not today, I've got...things.”

“Sorry, Dean, not next week, I've got...stuff and things.”

Dean doesn't remember the last time he picked up a cigarette and lit it, but he's started doing it again, despite Jed warning him it's going to be harder to quit a second time, but fuck it, at least the cigarette isn't going to take a raincheck on him because it's got stuff and things.

He's doing it again now, and it's a Sunday afternoon, and he's having his fifth vodka-and-tonic, so the rest of the world can go ahead and fuck off, please, because Aidan certainly has. And honestly, Dean would have put up much more of a fight, except Aidan does this thing where he  _exists,_ and how is Dean expected to defend himself against that, really.

“This seat taken?”

_Dear World: This is NOT how you fuck off. Sincerely, Not Drunk Enough For Your Shit O'Gorman._

He looks up at Richard, who's giving him a tiny smile. With a small shrug, Dean motions to the seat beside him, indicating that Richard is free to take it, which he does. Richard gets himself a beer, and Richard hardly ever drinks beer.

“You too, huh?”

Richard sighs, beer held between delicately long fingers as he puts it up to his lips and takes a short sip.

“Mum always did say not to touch something that isn't mine.”

Dean snorts, downing his drink and then taking a puff from his cig.

“At least you knew what you were getting into with Martin. I don't even know where I stand with Aidan anymore.”

“We did warn you, Dean.”

“I know you did.”

“You didn't listen. We told you.”

“ _I know you did_.”

Richard pins a coin onto its edges on the table and spins it a bit.

“Did you sleep with him?”

“Aidan?”

“No, Richard, Santa Claus. Yes, fucking Aidan.”

“Of course not. He never looks my way.”

“D'you know who it is then?”

“Haven't the foggiest.”

“Liar.”

“...It might be Adam, but I'm not sure.”

“Fuck.”

Dean takes a longer drag from his cigarette this time. Richard swigs from his beer again.

“Martin's wife is coming down.”

“Christ, Rich.”

“Tell me about it.”

Another drink. Another puff.

“My place then?”

“Dean...”

“It's not a pity fuck, Jesus. I don't pity you, and I don't really need your pity. We need something other than that.”

“Like what?”

“A friend, maybe.”

“With benefits?”

“That's cheesy, Richard. But yeah. With benefits.”

Richard swivels in his chair and fixes Dean with a firm glance.

“Tell me something first. And be completely, brutally honest. If it was anybody else here, if it was anybody  _but_ me here right now, would you be asking for the same thing?”

Dean's eyes narrow just slightly as he looks Richard over, amused.

“I'm surprised it matters to you.”

“Answer the question.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“...No. Probably not.”

Richard finishes the rest of his beer, and snaps the cigarette right out from between Dean's fingers, only to finish that off himself as well. Dean chuckles, rubbing at his eyebrow with a finger. Richard puts down more than enough money to cover what he and Dean owe, and then Dean is following him out the door.

They're barely past the threshold to Dean's place before he's shoving Richard up against a wall, crushing his lips to his. They tug clumsily at clothes, and when Dean's hand closes tight around Richard's cock, Richard lets out a delicious hiss. Dean leans in close, stroking slow and hard.

“Fuck my brains out, Rich.”

And that's how it starts.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

“Are you busy?”

“Aw, Richard, a phone call! How quaint.”

“Shut up, little man. Are you busy?”

Dean looks over into the living room, where Aidan is busy winning Graham over by letting him win at FIFA 2012.

“I wish. What's up?”

“You sound like you need a walk.”

“I also need to be fed every few hours, and bathed every few days. I haven't had my shots yet, by the way, but your mum and dad say that's  _your_  responsibility, not theirs.”

“You're adorable when you're pissed off.”

“Honey, you should see me with a frown. Anything in particular I can help you with?”

“Yeah, you can help me figure out the best place to take you to for coffee.”

Dean looks into the living room again. Aidan's giving Graham one of those lingering grins he does, the one that looks like he's way more interested in the person he's aiming at than his words are letting on.

“Richard Armitage, are you asking me out?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want to go out or not.”

Dean actually kind of giggles at that. Smooth little fucker, this Richard.

“Sure. Why the hell not? Not like he's gonna miss me or anything.”

“I'm sure that's not true.”

“Tell that to the hand he's got on Graham's knee.”

“...Ah.”

“Yeah. It turns out it was Graham all this time. Who knew?”

“That settles it then.”

“What settles what then?”

“Meet me outside your place in 10. I’m taking you for coffee.”

“Just coffee?”

“Disappointed?”

“You fucking wish.”

Richard laughs, and Dean can’t help but smile.

“See you in 10 then, Deano.”

“Sure.”

Dean hangs up, staring at the phone in his hand for what feels like an eternity. In the living room, Aidan’s got Graham wrapped around his finger. Dean rushes to his room for a jacket and a decent pair of denims.

“I’m going out, Aidan.”

“Yeah? Where’re you off to?”

“Coffee with…a friend.”

“Oh, okay. Hey, while you’re out, d’you think you could pick me up some shampoo?”

“Uh…”

“Thanks, you’re a doll. See you later, sexy! Have fun!”

Fucking _slag_.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Dean looks back just slightly as he takes a few more steps backwards. He’s never really found himself wishing he had measuring tape or a meter stick, but now would be a good time for one.

“It’s too far, Deano!”

“No, it’s not, I swear. Just don’t throw it too hard.”

“Either way, you’re not gonna catch it.”

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re _not_ going to catch it!”

Dean can hardly help the smug smirk spreading across his face. He pulls his wallet out and puts out a fiver. Richard just laughs disbelievingly.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Well, you’re so adamant that I’m not gonna catch it, and I’m damn sure I will. Come on, Armitage, you know you want to.”

Richard gives him a once-over. Dean tries not to think about the way that just made him shiver quite nicely. Dean takes out his wallet and puts down double.

“…Fine. But let’s up the ante a bit. Loser buys the winner dinner.”

“Like…on a date?”

“Are you backing out now, O’Gorman?”

“Fuck no.”

Dean takes out another five and puts it down as well.

“Ready when you are, Captain.”

Smirking, Richard digs into the packet and takes out three pieces of Maltesers. He gives Dean a couple of seconds to ready himself. He throws the first one across to him, and Dean leans just a little to the left to catch it effortlessly in his mouth. He puts up a hand to tell Richard that he’s still eating it, but Richard is laughing incredulously. Once the first Malteser is gone, Dean lets Richard know, and Richard sets up again. Dean catches the second one just as easily, so Richard launches the last one too. Dean just barely gets it in his mouth, but he manages, and they’re both laughing as Dean tries to finish both pieces off.

“Well, what do you know?”

“I know you lost on purpose.”

“I did not!”

“You totally fucking did, Richard. You were totally holding back. You know if you wanted to, you could have thrown it right out of my range, but you didn’t. You pretty much fucking fed them to me.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

It almost looks like Richard’s trying so damn hard not to smile and is failing spectacularly.

“Can you blame me for wanting to spend more time with you?”

“Could be literally anybody else though, Rich.”

“Yeah, maybe. But…I don’t know, I don’t think I’d be enjoying myself if it was anybody else but you.”

Dean may or may not be blushing.

“So, about that date…”

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

“What’s wrong with us, Deano?”

Dean has to tear himself away from the movie they’ve put on. The question was so random, so out of nowhere, that he just knows he _has_ to answer it.

“What was that?”

“What’s wrong with us?”

Richard isn’t looking at Dean, but his brows are furrowed. He looks like the movie has done him some great personal harm or something. Dean thinks about his answer, popping a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth until he can come up with something.

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you and me, Rich.”

“You mean aside from the fact that you’re still with Aidan and I keep going back to Martin?”

“You think that’s wrong?”

“When was the last time you had sex with Aidan?”

“A couple of nights ago, I think.”

“...Oh.”

“...Oh, Richard.”

Richard waves him off, helping himself to some popcorn.

“No, it’s fine, forget about it.”

“Richard--”

“Seriously, Dean, it’s fine, it’s nothing, okay? Just...it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

Richard sighs heavily, head dropping back against the backrest of the couch.

“No. I’m really not. He keeps pulling me up high, only to drop me when I least expect it. It’s frustrating. I mean...I know he’s not going to leave his wife, so what the hell am _I_ for? I feel so fucking... _used_. And I’m tired of it. I’m sick and fucking tired of feeling like I’m only good when I’m needed. I don’t even know what he _needs_ me for anymore.”

“So leave him. Fuck it, he doesn’t deserve you if he doesn’t know how to want you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You’re just hurting yourself, Rich. You stay any longer, you’re the one who ends up looking stupid, not him. You’ve got to let go. He was never yours to keep anyway.”

“This is supposed to make me feel better?”

“I was never good at cheering people up. I am good at trying to make people see logic though.”

“And you? What’s left for _you_?”

Dean draws his blankets up closer around him, turning back to the movie.

“Don’t worry about me.”

“But I do, though. Constantly. I see the way you look at Aidan when you think nobody can see you. You _long_ for him as if you weren’t already with him. When you _are_ with him, you’re so desperate to hold on to him that you lose your grip on everything else. You get tunnel vision when you’re with him. It’s like no one else exists, you know, the way you cling to him.”

“I’m hanging on to him by a fucking thread, Richard, but at least I’ve still got something to hang on to.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Oh God, Richard, don’t fucking do this.”

“No, it’s a serious question. Ask yourself, Dean: what was that supposed to mean, and what do you think it actually means?”

It’s Dean’s turn to sigh, and sigh he does. He knows Richard is right, just as he’s right about Richard. He turns to say as much, but is cut off before he can even begin to say anything when Richard kisses him. Caught off-guard, his hand finds a bit of Richard’s shirt to cling on to. The kiss deepens, and Dean is seeing stars. They’ve kissed before, they’ve fucked before, but this...This is different. This feels nice. This feels better. This feels...This feels right.

Richard draws him into his lap without breaking the kiss, and suddenly it’s even better than _right_.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Breathless and feeling absolutely boneless, Dean collapses on top of Richard, and they laugh through their exhaustion. Dean plants chaste little kisses on Richard’s chest. In return, Richard holds him a bit closer, stroking his back soothingly with his hand.

“Jesus, Rich, that was fantastic.”

“Only coz you did all the work.”

“Very true.”

That gets Dean a sharp slap to the ass, and Dean chuckles again. Richard draws him even closer, if possible, and sighs. Dean can feel it reverberating throughout his entire body.

“What now, Dean?”

“...Dunno.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Make it quick, I’m getting sleepy.”

“Fine then, I’ll get straight to the point. I _had_ prepared something, but you’ve got no use for flowery speeches, have you?”

“Not usually, no.”

“Right, well...This is going to seem so anticlimactic, but...Dean, I’m in love with you.”

“...Yeah. I know. I’ve known since the day you kissed me on your couch out of bloody nowhere.”

“Well, I’ve been in love with you longer than that. Much, much, _much_ longer than that.”

“I’m losing my touch then, I used to be able to tell these things.”

“And here I thought I was being painfully obvious.”

“Maybe I just wasn’t looking well enough.”

Dean hears rather than sees Richard smile. He starts tracing lazy circles on Richard’s skin.

“Tell me to leave Martin.”

“What?”

“Tell me to leave him, and I will.”

“Why don’t you just up and do it?”

“Because I’d like to know that I’m not doing it for nothing. I’d rather be with you than him, but if the feeling isn’t mutual, I don’t want to end up pressuring you into anything you don’t want to be in. I don’t want you to feel like you have to pick up the slack or something, or try to put me back together or whatever.”

“Do you want to leave him?”

“Do you want me to leave him?”

“I...want you to...be happy. Just be happy. You deserve to be.”

“We all do. And you know what, Dean, cheesy as it sounds, I’m happy when I’m with _you_.”

“That’s dis _gusting_.”

“I know, isn’t it?”

They laugh together again, and Dean is pretty sure he could get used to this, if he isn’t already.

“So what is it _you_ want, Deano?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“Well, honestly...I want you to be with me, Rich.”

“Good. Coz I want to be with you.”

“Oh, look at how well that all works out.”

“...What about Aidan?”

Dean shrugs. He can already imagine Aidan’s face, thinks he can predict what he might say, how he might react.

“He’ll be okay, I think. I mean...He _is_ still with Graham, so that’s something. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just...I don’t think we were really meant to last, him and me. Nah, he’ll be fine, he can take care of himself.”

“I’m sure he will. In the meantime, you, sir, need to take care of _me_ , coz the way you’ve been squirming against me is causing me a bit of a problem. That’s deliberate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m a slag, what can I say?”

Whatever else it is they have to say to each other is lost and forgotten as they kiss again, Richard’s hold on Dean tightening just ever so slightly.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

The sad thing about Icarus is that when he fell, he fell right into the sea. There was no one around to see him fall other than his father. There was no one to help. He drowned. And really, it’s not the sun’s fault. The sun is always going to be there, it’s always going to shine, and it’s always going to be hot, and it’s always going to melt wax and cause other Icaruses to fall too.

The good thing about Dean is that when _he_ fell, someone saw. Someone caught him before it was too late. And it’s not like Richard is trying to make him a new set of wings. Richard is taking him along a different path, giving him a different option, letting him make his own choice. He doesn’t have to fly again. The thing about flying, anyway, is that everything passes by way too fast. So Dean will just walk for now. It’ll be a lot easier to appreciate everything. No pressure. No pressure at all.

 

 

**_~ END. ~_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH GORMITAGE. HOW HAVE I MISSED THEE. LET ME COUNT THE WAYS.


	8. GORMITAGE (AU) - Richard and Dean meet online

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Gormitage where they meet on a dating website? Richard because he's super shy about approaching guys in real life and Dean maybe because he's just moved to England from New Zealand and wants to get to know new people?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by [Katy aka bluepeony](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepeony) on my Tumblr. And OMG U GAIZE, she's one of my most fave people in the world coz she's incredibly nice and remarkably talented, and OMG THE PRESSURE. But she feeds my hardcore Gormitage shipping, because she's an enabler like that, and that's why I love her.

"Somewhere, Dean, somewhere out there is that one person, that one special person who's going to make you feel special. That person who makes you happy you're getting up in the morning, and sad that you have to close your eyes to go to sleep.”

"Adam...”

"That person you know you'd kill for and die for, that person who becomes your entire world, that person who becomes the very air you breathe...”

 _"Adam_...”

"That person who's the sugar in your tea, the cream in your coffee, the jelly in your donut --”

“ADAM!”

Adam actually jumps a little, and he's staring in utter confusion at Dean, who looks about a word away from spewing sick all over his new floors.

"What?” Adam asks, “I'm just saying! You've been single long enough, you know. I mean, I know Jared was something special, but you can only hold out for so long.”

"So you're making me a profile on a dating website?!” Dean points out, incredulous.

"I'm putting your foot through the door, is all,” Adam says, “No wheel ever got going without someone pushing it down a hill, after all.”

Dean's hands are wringing in the air just behind Adam, unsure what they want to grab. “Adam, I've barely just moved here,” Dean protests, “My clothes aren't even out of the boxes yet! The only reason my internet is even hooked up already is because you insisted!”

"And wasn't that one of the best ideas ever,” Adam replies, “Now, what would you say your type was?”

"My _type_?” Dean echoes.

"Yeah,” Adam answers, pushing his glasses up his nose a little, “What do you look for in a potential partner?”

"Potential par...” Dean trails off in disbelief, “Does it really say that?”

"It does,” Adam says, “So let's see...Tall, dark, mysterious, artistic, amazing in bed?”

"Pretty sure you just described _me_ ,” snorts Dean.

"You wish,” Adam retorts, “Seriously though, Deano.”

"How about 'A tall glass of DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT with a side order of 'FUCK RIGHT OFF, THANKS VERY MUCH?' How's that sound?” Dean offers, ramming the cutter into the middle of the packing tape and ripping.

" _Deeeean_.”

"What?! I've told you from the start that I don't want to be on one of those things. It's shit. People forming a relationship online with other people they don't even meet face to face? It's so easy to fake everything online these days, Jesus. How do we know that the cute guy with the amazing sense of humor you're talking to isn't actually some warty, lonely, homeless lesbian looking for a meal ticket?”

"Well, _dad_ , you won't know unless you try, will you?” Click. “And you're officially online and available. You're welcome.”

Dean takes his shirt off and throws it at Adam's head.

"GROOOOOOOOOOOOSS!” Adam whines, engaging in what could be a battle with the shirt to shame Captain Jack Sparrow being swallowed by the kraken, “Ugh, Dean, seriously! I did you a favor, and this is how you thank me?”

"You're right, I'm sorry, that was lame,” Dean answers, “Here's how I'll thank you – I'll wait until after you've left to delete the account.”

"How dare you think I would be so unprepared for such shenanigans, sir!” Adam declares, “I used one of _my_ passwords.”

"I know _all_ your passwords, Adam.”

"That's what _you_ think.”

Dean flips him the finger. Adam gives him the two-finger salute. “Look, would you just give it a chance?” Adam pleads, “Please? I mean, the main reason you moved from Auckland is because you were sick of being alone there.”

Adam's eyes are big in request, his slightly lopsided mouth pouting, but not childishly or comically. Dean decides that now isn't exactly the best time to point out that he moved because Adam talked him into it.

"Do you honestly think that a dating website is going to change things for me?” Dean asks, “I mean, honestly?”

"Yes, I do,” Adam answers, “If for nothing else, at least you'll make new friends, since I'm literally the only one you know from here. Come on, Dean, please? For me?”

Dean tries to hold out as long as he can, but Adam has always known which of his buttons to press and exactly how, just to get what he wants. Dean sighs heavily.

"Fine,” he replies, “I'll give it a month. If there's nothing, or if it's some horrid bloke with, like, halitosis or five nipples, you're deleting it for me, and you're NEVER going to do it again. Deal?”

"Deal,” Adam says, absolutely beaming. He holds his hand out, and Dean takes it, shaking it firmly.

"One month,” he repeats.

"One month,” Adam echoes.

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

In the middle of week two, Dean finds someone in his inbox that's actually pretty damn interesting. Helps that he's not bad to look at either. But other than what's written in the guy's profile, he's really kind of...mysterious. In a good way.

Then again, how interesting can a 41-year-old single architect who almost too conveniently lives not too far from Dean really be?

What if he's, like...really creepy?

What if that's not even his picture?

What if he's not really an architect?

What if he's not even really a man?

What if it's just Adam trying to make him feel better?

Because seriously, the way this guy seems really nice without actually saying much (shy, maybe?), and has a face Dean would not be opposed to seeing quite a lot of (geez, is that nose even legal?) is actually making a few warning bells go off in Dean's head.

_This is what I get for actually checking the damn thing. Fucking Adam._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

2 days later, and Dean's got a reply to the message he had sent as a reply himself. Risking a few more minutes before he has to run out for a job interview, he quickly scans the message, just to see what this guy – Richard, his name is, and doesn't that just roll quite nicely off the tongue – has to say.

“ _...Quite surprised you replied...Never really done this before...Not looking for more...Like to talk more...Coffee, maybe?_ ”

Coffee. Magic word.

 _Dammit_.

Dean types out a quick response. Yes, he'd love to go for coffee one time, maybe on a weekend, when is Richard not busy, and could he recommend some nice coffee places to check out because he's new around these pa-----

He hits backspace so fast, he thinks it might be broken. _Too fast, way too fast._ It's the first message, technically, just the first message. Saying yes to coffee might make him seem too eager. Or too easy.

_Rather busy in the next few weeks. Would love to keep chatting though. Drop me a line whenever you feel like it. Off to job interview, wish me luck._

Okay, so that last part is a little cozy, but without it, the entire message feels so dismissive, so he leaves it in. He clicks on send and doesn't bother shutting his computer down, he's nearly late. He grabs his portfolio on the way out the door.

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Dean,_

_I totally understand, don't worry about it. Besides, been kind of busy myself – wrapping up my last project for a while, I need a break. Been working non-stop. Chatting is always nice and easy. Hope your interview went well._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Richard,_

_Thanks, interview went okay. I know what you mean about needing a break. Sometimes you just need to get away from it all, eh? “The world's not gonna stop any time soon, so you might as well do it every now and then.” Something my dad used to say._ _Hope your project's been going well. Would love to hear more about what you do, but only if and when you've got the time._

_PS – I hate to do this as we've only just met (sort of), but you wouldn't happen to know anyone who might be in need of professional photography services, would you?_

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Hello Dean,_

_You would NOT want to hear about what I do from me, believe me. I get very technical and boring. I'm more fascinated about how steel and concrete can support each other than a normal person probably should be. I'm not entirely sure you want to hear me explain how water can actually help cement form and harden while heat does the complete opposite._

_As it turns out, I do know a couple of places that might need you. A friend of mine runs an events-planning company, and one of their photographers just resigned. Another one is the graphics and layout editor for an architecture and design magazine. I could send you details if you want. Would you need me to put in a good word or two for you?_

_Hope you've been enjoying the country so far. We're a nice, normal bunch of people, really._

_Just don't bring up Eurovision._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Hey Richard,_

_Don't worry, I'm sure everything you've got to share on the wonderful world of architecture will be fascinating. It'd probably be the first proper conversation I have with someone here that ISN'T with my friend. The cement thing has got me perplexed, to be honest._

_And yes, I'd love to get those contact details. And no, no need to put in a word for me. I hope I didn't make you think you needed to. You do hardly know me, after all, and I wouldn't want you to lie to your friends about some stranger you haven't even met in person!_

_It's just that I'm eager to get life restarted here, and my photography is one of the things that truly makes me happy, and if I can get paid for doing it, so much the better. My parents were never really sure that it would get me anywhere, but hey, passion is always worth it, I think._

_I've been enjoying my time here, definitely. I don't really know anyone yet, but that's liable to change, hopefully soon. And don't worry, my friend Adam warned me about the Eurovision thing._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Hello, Dean!_

_Just wanted to send my congratulations. I heard you got the magazine job. Well done! That's actually my favorite magazine. Can't wait to see your work in it, I'm sure you're very excited as well._

_I've just finally signed off of my final project. It's all done, at last. Two years of hard toiling, and it was just a house! It doesn't usually take us that long, but this client was picky. Thank God he had a budget to match it, or I don't think we'd ever have gotten done. I couldn't even find some of the finishes he wanted here, I had to get them sourced from Asia!_

_I hope you don't mind me asking, but why did you move here? I've always wanted to visit New Zealand, I hear it's absolutely beautiful. I'd love to hear more about it from someone who's actually been there. Where are the best places to go? What's fun to do there? I could really use a long, LONG break, and NZ just sounds like a really comfortable place to escape to._

_Hope to hear from you again soon. You and your messages have become a very welcome staple in my routine._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Hey Richard,_

_Thanks for the congrats, mate, I got very lucky. I actually didn't think I'd get it. I heard back from the events group as well, and they're interested too. I've got a decision to make, it seems, which is a situation I've never really found myself in._

_Congratulations as well on being done with your final construction project. You sound so relieved, and I don't blame you. I've never quite had the patience for that kind of job, so my hat's off to you. :D_

_Why did I move from NZ? Hah. Long story. Not all of it very positive, either. My friend Adam was the one who convinced me to leave it all behind and start fresh. I was kind of hesitant, but I'm starting to be really glad that I did, actually, for some reason. I left to leave my old self behind and become someone else, I think._

_But don't let me discourage you from visiting the country, if you can. It really is beautiful, to be honest, if you know where to go. Honestly, you can go anywhere and have the time of your life, even in the urban areas. I don't think I'm in a very good position to tell you much about it though, LOL. I've been to a bit of the countryside for photoshoots, and it's honestly spectacular. Although I'm pretty sure there's so much more of the country that I haven't seen yet. I suggest you visit Queenstown, if you ever get to go down there. The views are beautiful, and the people are awesome._

_It's really nice of you to say that you're getting used to me, haha! I hope it doesn't sound creepy, but I can't help but look forward to your messages as well sometimes. It just honestly feels really nice to have someone to be chatting with on a regular basis._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

_Hello, Dean!_

_I don't know if it's just because I've got a lot more time these days, but I seem to be able to respond to your messages a lot sooner now than before._

_I'm sure New Zealand must hold a lot of good memories for you, and it sounds really beautiful. I'm looking forward to a trip there. Hopefully before the year is up, we'll see._

_I think I know exactly what you mean about moving away to become someone else. We all have times and moments in our past we'd like to never have to think about again. I wouldn't ask you to tell me everything, but know that if you ever need someone to vent to, I'm right here. I know that sounds rather comfortable considering everything, but I know what it's like to be in an entirely new place surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The last thing I want is for you to lose reason to stay here and go back somewhere you don't want to return to._

_Besides, speaking with you has made me feel like someone else too. Someone a bit more like myself, I think._

_Anyway, the reason I'm telling you this is that I was hoping you'd like to take up that offer of coffee yet? It doesn't have to be much of anything other than a nice chat over a few good cuppas, really. We both just have reasons to celebrate, and no one else to really celebrate with. I'd understand if you're not quite ready for it, but it'd be really nice to meet you in person at last._

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

"Oh my GOD.”

"Adam...”

"I told you so! Didn't I tell you? I told you!”

" _Adam..._ ”

"Are you going to do it? Are you going to meet him? Oh, Dean, _please_ say you'll go and have coffee with him, oh my God, it would be the cutest, sweetest thing ---”

"ADAM!”

"Don't 'ADAM' me, O'Gorman,” Adam argues excitedly, “It's been MORE than a month, been nearly two, actually, you've talked to nobody else on the site BUT him, you're obviously getting along really well, and he's CLEARLY interested!”

"Yeah, but...” Dean says, trying to think of a 'but.'

"But nothing, Dean,” Adam intercuts, pulling a chair and sitting right smack in front of Dean and grabbing his face in both hands, “This is the first real friend you've made here that isn't me, and he sounds like a charm, and I swear to God, if you don't do this for yourself I'm going to murder you in your sleep.”

"Jesus, fine!” Dean exhales, “I'll go, oh my GOD, Adam.”

Adam pulls him forward and peppers his head with kisses.

"Chill, Adz, geez!” Dean says, taking his head back, “It's just coffee! It's not for sure that he's...what was it? The peanut butter and jelly in my sandwich or whatever.”

"Well fuck, can't I just be happy for you?” Adam laughs, “I mean, seriously. You've been through a lot, it's about time you got a little bit of smile back.”

Dean sighs. Adam is right, and he knows it.

Besides, it's just coffee, right? Just coffee and conversation. That's it.

Adam hands him his wireless keyboard.

_Hey Richard!_

_Coffee would be great. How does Saturday at around 11.00am sound?_

_Sorry for the brief reply, I've got a friend over._

Dean clicks send, and Adam kisses him on the top of his head. “I am so happy for you, you have no idea,” he says, and it's actually kind of sweet.

"I really think I do though,” Dean says, “You're not going to ask to tag along and hide in a nondescript corner just to watch the romance bloom now, are you?”

"No!” Adam replies, “Then again...”

Dean slaps him on the arse, and Adam just laughs.

Until the screen lights up, shows a notification.

Dean and Adam exchange looks, one of surprise, the other of excitement.

"He's online?” Dean asks, incredulous.

"He's online!” Adam says at exactly the same time, more excited than he probably should be.

_Dean,_

_Saturday sounds great! I hope you don't mind my saying, but I'm actually glad that it's that soon. I could really use the break. Say hello to your friend for me. Ask him where the library is, I'll meet you there._

Dean hasn't even turned around, nor opened his mouth to ask the question, when Adam is already bustling around for a paper and pen.

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

Dean recognizes him immediately, and suddenly it's the best decision he's made since arriving.

Richard is a tall glass of water. Like, seriously tall. And he's got this adorably tiny little smile, like he's not sure how much of a smile would be appropriate when you're meeting someone you only know from the internet in person for the first time. He's got his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and he's wearing, of all things, a cardigan. A _cardigan_. Goddamn, that's adorable.

As Richard gets closer, he makes to pull one hand out of his pocket, but then seems to think better of it, as if maybe a handshake is too personal. Dean offers him a gentle smile to let him know it's okay.

"Hullo,” he says, actually having to crane his neck just a little bit to look Richard in the eye.

"Hello there,” Richard replies, and _whoa_ , that voice is like bitter chocolate and rich, black coffee and thick caramel.

_Yes, VERY good decision._

"Didn't think you'd recognize me, to be honest,” Richard says, rubbing at the back of his neck and giving Dean a tentative smile.

"I saw you from afar and was questioning it, actually,” Dean replies, “I mean, you don't look much like an architect. Or, at least what I think an architect might look like. It's probably the cardigan. It's more 'literature professor' than 'architect' to me.”

"Is that a bad thing?” Richard asks him, and there's a very slight hint of a laugh in his eyes.

Dean gives him an easy smile. “No, definitely not,” he answers.

The grin Richard returns is divine.

 _Really good decision, indeed_.

Dean will just have to remember not to give Adam a reason to say that he told him so.

_**~ END. ~** _


	9. Dean/Richard/Aidan - "Kili means cute, and Fili means..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PROMPT** : Remember when Richard said "'Kili’ means ‘cute’. ‘Fili’… well I can’t tell you what that one means, but you can imagine.”? I would love to see your take on what it means to Richard. Probably Gormitage, but I'll leave that choice to you lol ;)

It's a curse, really, and no one is immune.

The names sound too much alike, what with only a letter's difference between them, and it's not helped by the fact that Dean and Aidan became very close in a span of days, and have since become nigh inseparable. Neither does it help that they _both_ turn when either name is called. It's even less helpful when even they fuck up on set, although the look on Dean's face when Aidan calls _him_ Kili is one for the books.

So they're Fili and Kili, and Dean and Aidan, and it's just easier that way, because separating them sends everyone into a tizzy as they struggle to remember which is which.

Everyone, that is, except Richard.

At first, Richard had been prey to it too, and what a spectacular sight it must have been, to see “perfect” Richard screwing up a line because he called Dean the wrong character. The first time it's funny. So is the second time, and the third and the fourth. Unfortunately, there isn't a fifth, sixth or seventh time.

Richard could probably take credit for finding his own way of remembering which is which, but if he were to be perfectly, brutally honest, it had been Dean and Aidan themselves, although they probably didn't know it at the time.

Aidan is adorable in and out of costume. He can't really help it, and it's not really his fault. It's those big brown eyes, and that endlessly cheerful smile. He looks up to and at Richard with such earnest reverence in his face that it's actually rather endearing. It made Richard feel almost far too old, a little bit guilty and rather deliciously dirty when Aidan had kissed him for the first time, tentative and unsure at first, only to be mewling desperately when Richard had hooked an arm up around his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him deeper. His willingness then had been almost too intoxicating.

These days, when Aidan approaches him, it's like looking a little kitten planning an attack on a ball of yarn. Richard always knows when Aidan wants something, and what exactly it is he wants. At first it had just been in private, but someone must've put something in Aidan's tea, because he eventually graduated to giving Richard these rather furtive but no less potent looks across a set, or on location, when there are a million and one people and their mothers around to see. Richard supposes that Aidan probably thinks he's being seductive or mysterious, but it usually just ends up looking like Kili's way too attached to his uncle. Where Aidan is adorable, Kili is cute. He's Richard's little cutie, even after he's gotten him naked and panting and writhing underneath him in a glorious mess of sheets and limbs. And call him weird or whatever, but it works. It's how he remembers that _Aidan_ is _Kili_.

Dean on the other hand, has always been a lot more expressive, and is about as shy as Richard is a woman. (A clue: they aren't.) Richard should've figured that the plain clothes and unassuming smile he'd seen Dean wearing the first time they'd met was just a front. It didn't take particularly long for Richard to recognize what Dean truly is: damn delicious. Where Aidan had been worrying his lower lip between his teeth that first night, Dean had been a lot more sober and a lot less subtle. The look Aidan had given him had been one of offering; Dean had looked at Richard as if he could positively devour him at the drop of a hat. And Richard had let him, because Dean had climbed onto his lap and kissed the life right out of him. Before that, Dean had been _propositioning_ Richard (there's really no other word for it) rather hungrily, and the more Dean had talked, the more Richard had melted at the promise of what was to come and what else could happen. So when Dean dropped to the floor between Richard's legs and made quick work of his pants and underwear, Richard had barely batted an eyelash. That was when Aidan had decided to kiss him, and when Dean's lips closed tight around the head of Richard's half-awake cock and sucked, Richard had gasped right into Aidan's mouth. But Dean had only just begun, his mouth far too talented, his eyes far too clever, and in minutes he had had Richard coming hard down his throat like a teenager, fingers tangled in Dean's short blond hair and digging into Aidan's nape.

And if Richard had thought that was a one-time thing, Dean had proven him dead wrong. Richard has lost count of the many, many times Dean has sauntered – _sauntered –_ right up to him in the middle of the day, smiling innocently but for the predatory gaze in dark blue eyes, leaning up just slightly to talk as directly into Richard's ear as possible, and whispered “Want you,” or “Trailer, now,” or “Fuck me,” or any other lewd demand he can come up with. And when Dean tugs at him (read: drags him), Richard follows with barely a second thought for who might be watching. Once in the privacy of closed doors, Dean sets upon him as if touch-starved and ravenous, and his lecherous eagerness is heady tonic for Richard. Sometimes Aidan is there too, sometimes it's just Aidan, but most days it's _just_ Dean, and when Richard's hips are pistoning into him, Dean's legs either wrapped around his waist or propped up against his shoulders, Dean moans and thrashes around like a goddamn porn star, and it's _delicious_. But it's when Dean pushes himself up and drags Richard down to him, kissing him hard and telling him how much he loves it, loves _him_ that Richard truly loses himself to Dean. Aidan is a lot less demanding, a lot less aggressive, far more affectionate. Dean is all about energy and pulling and drive, and Richard doesn't mind, because he gives as much as he takes. Once, just once, Dean had risked a bite at Richard's neck, far too early in the day for anyone to be able to ignore it. “Fucker,” Richard had hissed, and Dean had just laughed, but it had stuck to Richard. And Dean will probably hate him for it, but that's what Richard uses from that moment on. Dean, the little fucker, Dean is _Fili_.

It sticks. It works. Richard never messes up again. Everybody else does, but not Richard.

Not when Aidan is shooting him a cute little glance from behind his polystyrene tree, and Dean's quirking an eyebrow at him from another one, the rest of his face deceptively impassive.

Nope. No way Richard's going to confuse them ever again.

 

_**~ END. ~** _


	10. GORMITAGE - Richard inspires Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **PROMPT** : Gormitage: Richard inspires him like no one else ever has. Dean can't help but paint amazing things and make gorgeous photography because of him

The life of an artist is not an easy one. And it's not that Dean really considers himself much of an artist, but when the muses are out, they're _out_.

The last time Dean had experienced a dry spell, it had been so excruciating he hadn't even had the heart to keep charging his camera's batteries just to make sure that they stay alive. The dry spell had been so bad, he nearly threw his easel through a window once just because it pained him to see it so _empty._ His paints dried up, his studio gathered dust, and his camera's new memory card remained unused.

But then he met Richard Armitage.

Actually, scratch that.

One day, Dean was cast in _The Hobbit_ , and before Dean could do anything about it, Richard Armitage was happening to him.

Because really, there's no other way to describe the feeling of being completely swallowed by the man's very soul. It's a little overdramatic, but Dean can get away with it, he's an artist, and that's exactly how he sees Richard anyway. It's like someone capsized a boat Dean was on right into a great big ocean of _Richard_ with no promise nor hope of rescue.

Not that he wants it, mind you. Dean is perfectly happy to tread water forever if it means being with Richard for as long as humanly possible.

The first time he'd met Richard, the sky had been so blue that he couldn't help but take a picture of it with the shoddy camera on his phone.

The first time he and Richard had carried on a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with work, Dean had randomly found a paintbrush he'd been looking for when he relocated to the rented house, and of course, he put it to some use almost right away, Jackson Pollack-ing a canvas just for the hell of it.

The first time Richard had kissed him, Dean actually managed to start _and_ finish a three-panel painting a friend had commissioned him _months_ ago to make for her new home.

The first time they had made love – because that's what it _was_ , it wasn't a post-date fuck at all, and oh GOD, was it amazing beyond all reasonable doubt – Dean had grabbed his new sketchbook and nearly used it all up storyboarding his next photo editorial project.

The first time Richard had told him he loved him, Dean had snuck a picture of him sleeping, and it's probably one of the most beautifully intimate portraits Dean has ever taken of anyone.

That same morning, Dean was the first thing Richard saw when he awoke, and he had smiled so sleepily and so adorably that Dean couldn't help but take another picture. And another. And another. And another.

For a while, Dean just painted. And painted. And painted. He couldn't stop. It was like a dam had broken or something, and everything that it had been holding had come flooding out through his mind and hands. He just kept on creating. And Richard would sit there with Dean in his studio, admiring and encouraging in equal measures, and every murmur of “It looks great, Dean,” or “That's beautiful, Deano,” is almost always followed by a little tiny kiss to the cheek or to the top of his head. Dean's never felt more loved, nor more creative.

And then around September, they get a break. A four-week break.

The day Richard tells Dean he's going home for the break, Dean forgets to eat dinner. Dean forgets that he's got half a painting sitting in the studio, his brushes still in the dirty water, the paints uncapped, the palette unwashed. Dean forgets that he's got to print out some of his photos to show the gallery he's hoping to have his exhibit at. Dean forgets that without the #4 camel-hair brush now being completely decimated by his dog after he hurled out the window, he won't be able to finish the damn still life he was making for a friend as a wedding gift. Dean ends up forgetting a lot of things after Richard leaves.

The day Richard leaves, Dean crawls into his bed, throws the covers over himself, and curses the lifeboat that decided he needed rescuing when really, _really,_ he didn't.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Four weeks.

That's 28 days.

That's 672 hours.

That's 40,320 minutes.

That's 2,419,200 seconds.

That's an entire eternity without Richard, and an entire eternity of Dean doing nothing, feeling like nothing, being nothing. He feels like he's suspended in thin air as the rest of the world flies by, and he's perfectly content to watch it go, because moving makes him feel things, and he doesn't want to _feel_.

And it's only day one without Richard.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Before week one of break is over, Dean is able to pull himself together a little, and decides that maybe a walk in the park for some fresh air might do him some good. So he puts a leash on his dog with every intent of actually making it around the park a couple of times.

The weather dumps a great big “NOPE” of rain on him before he even makes it there.

Grumbling, he picks up his dog, wrapping him in his jacket to keep him dry as he rushes back to the house. Once inside, he lets the dog down in the living room, and stomps straight to his bathroom, muttering angrily as he strips violently. He turns the water on and sits in his bathtub, arms crossed.

He honestly can't remember being more miserable.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

There's an e-mail from Richard.

He says he's missing everyone, has had Aidan and Adam over a couple of times because they showed up unannounced at his doorstep, but mostly he's missing Dean, and hopes he's still painting, or working on his photos for the exhibit, because if anybody's more excited about Dean's exhibit than Dean's family, it's Dean's boyfriend.

Outside, the sun is uncharacteristically cheerful, the wind kind and the sky amiable. Dean manages a few runs around the park, and actually remembers every last thing on his grocery list even though he hadn't brought it with him when he went out.

The afternoon finds him in his studio, sat in front of his canvas, paintbrush in hand, staring without seeing at the unfinished picture.

He's been there for 15 minutes. He's done nothing.

”FUCK!”

He drops everything, letting it all fall to the floor noisily, and very fleetingly, _Serves you right, you little shits_ flits through his mind when he sees the mess his brushes have become on the floor. _Serves you right for not being enough._

Because it's not. It's not enough. None of it is.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Week three without Richard.

Day 5 with way too much food and alcohol, and absolutely nothing his bones want to get up and do.

His alarm goes off, for some odd reason, at 7:30am.

The last time he looked at the clock before he fell asleep, it was 5:15am.

_What the FUCK._

He hits the snooze button so hard, he's not sure it will ever work again.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

The days of week four go by at an agonizing crawl, and Dean can feel every last second in his very bones.

He spends way too much time in his studio just staring at all the unfinished paintings and empty canvases, hating the fact that he hasn't made any progress, hating himself because he knows he _could_ have made some progress, hating real life for taking away his very _drive_ to make any progress.

But he does try, as the days wear on, he does try.

On day 4.3, he actually manages to get the right mix for a colour he'd been agonizing over just before Richard le---just before break.

On day 4.4, he starts back on the wedding gift, using the new colour up before calling it a day.

On night 4.4, he looks at the new addition to the painting and realizes he's made a gigantic mistake, and would probably have broken down crying in frustration if he were anything less than 35-year-old man clinging to control by the skin of his teeth.

On day 4.5, he spends most of the morning thinking of a way to correct the mistake without it being too obvious.

On afternoon 4.5, he gives up trying to come up with a solution.

On night 4.5, he stuffs his face full of beef cannoli, _Spartacus_ blaring on his TV and his dog curled up on the couch beside him, sniffing surreptitiously at his food.

He doesn't even _remember_ day 4.6.

Day 4.7 greets him with a cheery text from Richard.

20 minutes later, his doorbell goes off, and he's barely opened the door before he's pulling Richard in, kissing him for all they're both worth.

 

\--- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + --- + ---

 

Dean's still naked when he goes back to his studio, but he doesn't really care. He puts everything right, sets a stool in front of the painting and just starts working, as if no time has passed, as if none of his materials have been victims of his tantrums in the past weeks.

Here come the ideas again, here come the solutions, and the colours, and the strokes, and th---

_Fuck, I forgot._

The mistake is still way too obvious, and he's _still_ not sure what to do with it. He doesn't want to throw this canvas out and just start again, he's come too far.

"What's going on?”

He turns just in time to see Richard reach out a mug of coffee to him, and Dean has probably never been more grateful for coffee in his entire life.

"Are you okay? Why are you still naked?” Richard asks, wearing just a pair of sweatpants and sipping from his coffee as he looks over Dean's work.

"I think the better question might be why aren't _you_ naked?” Dean answers, looking up at Richard and wiggling his eyebrows rather comically.

"What's that?” Richard asks, indicating the apparently pretty damn visible error.

"That?” Dean replies, “That's me being an idiot, because I don't know how to fix it.”

Richard tilts his head a little, his eyes squinting as he looks over the patch of complete and utter wrongness. “It's not so bad, darling,” Richard remarks after a while, “Have you still got some ochre? And maybe some vermillion.”

Dean tries hard, so very, _very_ hard, to not show any surprise on his face as he squeezes some of the requested colours onto his palette and hands that and a brush to Richard, who sets his mug down somewhere. Dean scoots over to give Richard some space, and watches with more than just a little fascination as Richard goes to work on rectifying Dean's misstep on the painting. Much to Dean's amusement and surprise, it's working. It's actually working.

"It's not that bad, honestly,” Richard says, as he finishes solving Dean's problem and saving him about a million and ten heartaches, “It was just a matter of stroking the other way. It's unconventional for something like this, but hey, if the shoe fits.”

Dean is still staring at him like this is the first time he's seeing him, and when Richard notices, he blushes and clears his throat.

"You little shit,” Dean laughs, “You fantastic, talented, godsend little shit.”

"You're welcome,” Richard replies, planting a kiss in Dean's hair before returning the brush and palette to him, “I'll make breakfast.”

As Richard walks off, Dean fights off a smile, because he's sure it's going to be incredibly wide and stupid and silly, the kind that makes him look like a goddamn Muppet, which is why his mum told him never to smile too much in pictures.

He's drowning again, is Dean.

Thank goodness.

**~ _END. ~_**


	11. PROMPTS ARE NOW OPEN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS VOLUME IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED! Thanks to everyone who sent me prompts from both Tumblr and here at AO3. Prompts are officially OPEN again, here are the details.

Hi guys! First of all, I want to thank everybody who sent me prompts last time. I actually had 5 more to write, but due to me being a complete huge gigantic idiot, I accidentally deleted them. My profuse apologies to [**bubberloo18**](http://bubberloo18.tumblr.com), [**hisagichan**](http://hisagichan.tumblr.com/), [**bifca**](http://bifca.tumblr.com/) and the other 2 anons whose prompts are now somewhere in internet limbo. I honestly didn't mean for it to happen, so I owe you guys prompts. bubberloo18, I owe you TWO prompts now, OMG, remember what happened to the first one? D:

That aside, _**I'm now re-opening prompts**_. Pairing options? Here you go.

  * **Hobbit RPS** \- Aidean, Gormitage, Richaidan, all 3 of them
  * **Hobbit FPS** \- Durincest/Cross-generational Durincest (Kili/Fili, Fili/Thorin, Kili/Thorin, all 3 of them); I might also write Tauriel, inquire inside.
  * Anders Johnson/John Mitchell



_**Now here's the thing**_ : I may or may not write other pairings that are not listed here. Ask me, coz sometimes I end up getting ideas for pairings I don't even ship. I'll let you know if I can/will write it or not. If by chance I say no, I hope you don't take it personally, it's only because I probably wouldn't be able to do the ship justice.

 **Will write?** AUs, gen, smut.

 **Won't write?** MPREG.

 **One last thing:** I usually fill these prompts as one-shots. Don't confine your idea though, because I usually find a way around prompts that could also be written as multi-chapter, but yeah, they will almost always be one-shots, with the occasional sequel, jic.

 **ALL PROMPTS GO TO[MY FIC BLOG'S ASKBOX](http://fanficcianawrites.tumblr.com/ask) ONLY.** Prompts sent to my personal askbox or my AO3 inbox will unfortunately not be entertained, as I like to keep the messages separate.

Just keep sending your ideas; if you've got more than one, send them all. If you're from/on **Tumblr** , I'd prefer it if you _weren't_ anon. If you're coming from here on **AO3** , leave me your name/AO3 pseud.

Thanks again, you guys! I hope you haven't tired of my stuff, coz I haven't tired of yours.

 

_**~ MARCIANA ~** _


End file.
